Cooler
by planet p
Summary: AU; set somewhere near the end of S3. Multi-pairing fic, but probably mostly Nina/Sam...
1. Chapter 1

**So now I've seen season three. This is sort of like that, but a little different towards the end, and really, really strange. I should know by now that anything I write that I'm thinking I want to be comedic more than likely's going to end up not. That kind of happened here, too.**

**Unfunny. Ug!**

**A couple of different pairings, as well. Mostly OOC. Way, extremely AU! Canon is not my strong point, I just have bendy ships.**

* * *

><p>"Sam, you have no shame!" Nina told him, with narrowed, suspicious eyes.<p>

"Um, insulting," Danielle commented lightly, standing a little ways away, by the water cooler with Brandon.

"Ignore them," Brandon replied, prompting a frown from the impeccably made-up young woman standing beside him on spiky-heeled high heels.

"No way! I have to have something to contribute to the gossip mill, Brandon, or else all my friends will think I'm out of touch."

"Friends?"

"Shut up, Brandon!" she told him, swatting his arm. "I have friends."

"Glad to hear somebody does," he muttered, shrugging.

"I might be lacking in shame, but you know what, Nina, I don't think I've ever seen you wearing anything but black. It's always black, every day."

Nina made a face. "Not true."

"Uh-huh true!"

Nina widened her eyes as though to say 'I don't care'. "Shameless!"

"What's so wonderful about shame, anyway?"

"I'm not just talking about shame, Sam, I'm talking about all of it! Compunction, tact – people, human people, have these qualities. It helps them to interact in more successful, meaningful ways."

"What's the point of this conversation exactly again? Explain that to me one more time. I'm... having a moment of... mental fatigue. Absolutely nothing's coming to me."

Nina shook her head. "Sam, you're an adult. It's time you started having adult relationships, hmm?"

"Okay, Mom. But, ah, the pep talk's all very fine and... everything, but don't you think it's a bit contradictory, a tiny bit hypocritical of you, to be saying these things? You're clearly depressed."

"Because I don't wear anything but black?" she shot sarcastically.

"Yes!" He nodded, gesturing a hand. That was it exactly.

"Sam, that is so not true."

"Sure, sure."

"So what are they arguing about again?" Brandon asked.

Danielle shrugged a shoulder. "I think Nina's annoyed at Sam for not having a girlfriend. You know, all that 'tell me something so I can live vicariously through you' stuff."

"Kinda creepy."

Danielle laughed. "I know, right!"

"But why Sam?"

"She stole his sweets the other day and said he must have misplaced them. You know, because of his bad memory."

"Ah, and what's Sam doing here again?"

"He's supposed to be helping Nina out with some problem with her car, I think."

"Right," Brandon said. He still didn't get what they were doing up here. Clearly, Nina's car was still down in the parking garage.

Danielle waved a hand. "I think they started arguing about something and they came up here to resolve the dispute, and maybe to use Nina's computer, but, um, then they got distracted by... this..."

Sam threw a hand up. "It's dark blue, Nina! It's _practically_ black!"

Nina glared at him darkly. "Blue and black are nothing alike, Sam. You must be colour blind."

"I'm colour blind?"

She nodded. "Mmm-hm!"

Brandon moved closer to Danielle and put his hands over her eyes. "Don't look now."

"Why?" she asked.

"Nina's embarrassing herself in front of Sam. I think it's one of those sympathy pain things. She thinks if he can understand why she's embarrassed, he might actually feel embarrassed himself. Behaviour modification. She may or may not be under the impression that he's not quite human. Ever since Agent Dunham and Dr. Bishop's son have gotten involved, Nina's decided its her personal mission in life to set Sam up too, or just terrorise him until he runs away and begs some poor woman for help."

Danielle reached up to take one of Brandon's hands from her eyes, then wished she hadn't. So that was awkward.

Brandon glanced down at his shoes. Danielle was too busy staring at Nina showing her lingerie off to them all to notice her cup of water had tilted to the side and was pouring all over Brandon's shoes. "Danielle?"

"Hmm?" She looked around at him, following his gaze down to his shoes and gasped, quickly righting her cup. "Hhh!" She laughed demurely. "I just, ah, thought they might need watering, you know. Guess I'm just the nurturing type, huh?"

"Yeah. I do hope Nina buttons her top back up soon. She's got an appointment coming in in thirty minutes."

Danielle took out her PDA, then nodded. "Thirty minutes exactly. Wow, Brandon! But, ah, we call them blouses, not tops."

He grimaced. "Yeah, well, shows how much I know." He gave a false laugh.

Danielle shrugged, calling out to Nina. "Meeting in thirty, ma'am!" Returning her attention to Brandon, she asked, "So, what do you think? Do you think Sam's human? He does come across as sort of... awkward, you know. Socially, I mean. He can talk to people, but when there are too many people he seems to retreat back into his own world. You have to admit, it's weird."

"Really?"

"Ah..." She frowned. "Yeah, Brandon, it's weird. Trust me." She looked back over to her boss, now backing away from Sam who was trying to re-button her blouse.

"Nina's sort of weird herself, don't you think?" Brandon asked. "Not... not in a bad way, of course, just... in a kind of endearing way. Like she's always asking how your weekend went, and mine."

"That's not endearing, it's plain annoying," Danielle told him. "Come on, Brandon, she's not my mom! She's my boss!"

"She doesn't have kids of her own. Maybe she just misses that kind of interaction."

"It's no less creepy, Brandon. Maybe you can see her point of view, but all I see is the creepiness." She shivered exaggeratedly. "Next thing you know, she'll be trying to set us up!"

Brandon frowned, looking confused. "Together?"

"What?" Danielle stepped away from him sharply, with wide eyes. "No! Not _together_, Brandon! I mean she'll be trying to set me up with some guy and... and she'll be trying to set you up with some, you know, really smart woman. Which, clearly, wouldn't be me!"

"I happen to believe you're pretty smart yourself," Brandon told her. "Albeit, your area of interest is slightly off par with mine, but it makes no difference, in the end. You've acquired knowledge throughout your life and you utilise it in a way that gives it practical real world applications. I call that 'smart'."

"Wow, Brandon, you know what – that's creepy! And you're creeping me out," Danielle said, nodding. She locked her eyes to his. "Tell me you weren't just flirting with me, or shoot me now?"

"Fl-flirting with you? Nooo! I... I don't do flirting. I don't get it, and it doesn't get me."

Danielle shook her head fiercely. "Brandon, _Sam_ doesn't get flirting!" She laughed, disbelieving. "You were so just flirting with me, weren't you?"

He shook his head slowly. "No."

"Oh, you were!"

"Danielle, I swear to you – I was not flirting with you. I was simply stating a fact. You were degrading your self-worth and I just thought it would be the right thing to do to set the record straight!"

She shook her head, sighing. "It sure sounded like flirting to me, Brandon. I dunno." She looked around her suddenly to see Nina frowning at Sam like he'd done something wrong.

"Sam, you broke it!"

"I didn't break it, it just... came off!"

Nina scowled frustratedly, snatching the tiny button out of Sam's hand. "I wasn't talking about the button, Sam, I was talking about my blouse! I'll have you know, I'm perfectly capable of buttoning my own blouse, Sam!"

"Nina. Why do you keep saying my name like you think maybe I'll forget you're talking to me and just zone out in the middle of our conversation?"

She narrowed her eyes in a scowl. "Won't you, Sam?"

"No, I will not, Nina! I'm not that scatterbrained!"

"You broke my blouse!"

"The buttons are too small, that's not my fault! Anyway, it was an accident. You shouldn't have tried running away when I was only trying to help."

"It's still broken!" Nina snapped. "And I didn't need your help, didn't I just say?"

"Yeah, I think you did." He sighed. "Wow, don't be such a drama queen."

"Drama queen?" she growled.

"Just... do your jacket back up," he told her.

"You're a bloody prude."

"I don't care."

Nina shoved the button into a pocket of her jacket and laughed falsely. "Well, Sam, I think you do care."

"If you want to call me a prude, I'll call you something back!" he replied darkly.

"Oh, yeah! What's that, Sam?"

"Cougar," Danielle whispered.

Brandon laughed quietly. "That is so mean, Danielle."

"Pst, you!"

"An exhibitionist, Nina. That's what you are. Hmm!"

She spluttered, laughing at him. "An exhibitionist, Sam! Really? I am not! I am so not!"

"I know these things."

"Like you know things about cars, I suppose?" she surmised.

"What are you getting at?"

"Getting at?" Danielle snickered. "These two crack me up! Get a room, guys!"

"Danielle, I don't mean to sound... forward or... or awful, but do you think it's possible you only wanted to think I was flirting with you?" Brandon asked her.

"Huh? What?" She turned to frown at him.

"I said, do you think it's possible I wasn't flirting with you but you wanted to think I was anyway?"

She made a face, any little blush she might have felt hidden underneath her make-up. "You're so funny, Brandon!" she laughed.

"That wasn't my intention, Danielle. I think you know that."

Danielle glanced down at her trusty PDA quickly, averting his eyes, and said formally, "I think you should probably be getting back to your lab now, Brandon. Break time's over."

He sighed and nodded. "Well, it was great talking, Danielle. Until next time." Then he turned and walked out, closing the door after him.

Danielle dropped her shoulders. Oh, what had she just done? Why hadn't she just owned up to the truth and told him that she liked him? She was so stupid!

Shaking her head at her plainly self-sabotaging antics, she walked off to go wait outside for Nina's appointment. "I'll be outside!" she called out, walking to the door and pushing it open. She slipped outside and looked around, but Brandon was well and truly gone. She suppressed a sigh and supposed that was what she got for being silly and snobbing the guy and laughing in his face.

Nina glanced around her quickly. "What? What? Did it work?"

Sam shook his head. "Somehow, I think not. Plan B?"

"Ugh!" Nina sighed heavily. "I don't have a Plan B. I'll have to come up with another plan, I suppose."

"Yep."

Nina smacked his arm. "Don't sound so smug! You can help me think of something."

"What do I know?"

"I don't know," Nina replied. "Stuff."

"Very scientific."

"I know! Kinda makes you jealous, doesn't it!"

"Oh yeah!" He laughed.

Nina threw him a glare. "Are you laughing at me, Sam Weiss?"

"I wouldn't dare, Nina Sharp."

"But you still are, right?"

He grinned. "Yeah. Just a little." He winked at her, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Sooo! Plan B, huh?"

Nina zipped her jacket up and narrowed her eyes in thought. "Sam?"

"Yuh-huh, Nina?"

"That's not a word, Sam." She sighed. "What happened to my coffee?"

"Oh, was that your coffee?"

"Yes. The other one was yours."

"Oh. Sorry."

She looked at the cups on her desk: they were both empty. "Sam, you knew that was my coffee, didn't you?"

"Hey, excuse me, but they were over there, with the water, and I didn't want to ruin your perfect plan. I was thirsty! It's kinda what happens, you know, when you're alive."

She laughed falsely. "Ha-ha! You're real funny, Sam. And don't knock my plan unless you've got one of your own!"

"I don't."

"Then zip it!"

"Ditto." He tossed his head. "I mean, the same to you."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Sam, you know what, this wasn't my idea! So you can just stop blaming me with that look in your eyes!"

"I am no- Yeah right! Then whose idea was it, Bob the Builder's?"

"Actually, no – it was SpongeBob Who's-it's! What do you think?" She put a hand on her head, then took it off again. "With the hat!"

"Whoa! I think we should stop hanging out, Nina. We've gotta stop hanging out. Those guys... not to my liking."

"Yeah, well, I need an accomplice, and you're it!"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"Are you hard of hearing, Nina? I said, 'No, I'm not!' I'm drawing the line, right here, right now. Line drawed. I am not helping you with this crazy endeavour any more!"

"That's not a word, either, Sam."

"Who cares?"

"I do!"

"I don't!"

"Why are you being so melodramatic about this?"

"Um, because I can! And... hold up a second, but I thought that lot didn't interfere!"

"So did I, but now here we are, and... there you have it. Maybe they messed up somewhere along the lines and they're just trying to set things right again."

"Hypocrites."

"Sam, don't get tetchy."

"Tetchy!" He snorted. "I have a right to be tetchy, Nina! I'm a human being!"

Nina caught his eye. "Sam. Sam. I'm asking you, as a... a friend. Please help me. I don't think this is something I can do on my own."

"No. If it really is their mistake, then they should set it right themselves. It shouldn't be up to you!"

"Does it really matter who does it, as long as it gets done?"

Sam shook his head, but he didn't have anything to say to that. At least, not anything he wanted to voice out loud.

"Please, Sam. Help me out here?"

He sighed heavily. "Fine, Nina! But after this, that's it. This is the last time."

"I get it. The last time."

"The _last_ time!"

She nodded, and tilted her head. "I really appreciate it, Sam."

"No you don't," he returned darkly. "You're Nina Sharp. What you want, you get. Simple as that. Who am I. Some guy named Sam. Sam! Not Samuel, not even Sammy, just Sam. How many Sams are there in the world? I'm just a means to an end for people like you, Nina. People like me, we're always just a means to an ends for your kind."

"My kind?" she asked coolly.

"The achievers. The successful people. Your kind!"

"That hurts, Sam."

"Yeah, well now you know how I feel. I like helping people, I do. I like feeling a part of this world, in a good, meaningful way. But I'm not somebody else's toy. You can't just play with me for a bit, as long as I'm funny and cute, mess me up and throw me away. I am a _person_!"

"I think this is a conversation you should be having with someone else, Sam, not me," Nina replied, at last. "I hear what you're saying. I do. But you're hurt, inside, and the way you see people treating you, it... it only registers in your conscious mind in one way, and that way, unfortunately, only serves to hurt you even more. You've got to accept how your life has turned out before you can institute and embrace change, Sam. You know all this already, though, don't you." She nodded. "Sam, if you need a friend, all you have to do is say so. And you're not too unfunny or too cold or serious or anything that would say to you, you don't deserve to have friends, and _no_, friends don't _always_ stick by you, or stick around – sometimes they just piss off out of your life and you never see from them or hear from them again – but sometimes they do, sometimes they stay, and they make _you_ want to stick around too. Yeah, you totally deserve a friend, Sam, so don't be so down on yourself. You're being unfair to yourself and that's not even sad, it's just terrible." She sighed, and reached for his hand, catching his eye. A little smile came onto her face. "You're a person. I know that, because I'm a person too."

"I have friends," he denied.

She suppressed a sigh. She didn't think he did, but she didn't argue with him. Instead, she said, "Then Sam, talk to them. Just talk to them. If they really are friends, then they won't want to see you unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy."

"Sam, I know what unhappy looks like. I know, because I've been happy before too. But I don't think you have. You've seen it in other people, but you've never really, truly been happy yourself. I don't mean to make you sound any less than you are, or put down your life, I don't mean that at all, but you are unhappy. You just don't know it."

"I'm not unhappy."

"Okay. Okay." She nodded, letting go of his hand. "You're not unhappy. I get it. Then, carry on – not being unhappy... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to presume. I guess I'm just too used to getting my own way, you're right. I have some hurdles of my own to overcome. Looking forward to that. Life – ain't it great? Thrilling stuff." She smiled. "Thanks again, for lending a helping hand. I'll call you, if I think of something. And if you have an suggestions, feel free to call me any time. We're a team, for the moment. Let's be teamy, if we feel like being teamy." She clapped a hand to his arm, leaning closer with a smile. "I will see you sometime in the future. Stuck around, eh!"

"Nah. I might be moving to," he pointed a finger over his shoulder, "that one that's not a planet anymore, soon. We'll see, I guess."

"Pluto," Nina put in. "Send me a postcard."

"Sure," he replied plainly.

Nina nodded and watched him walk away, towards the door. Poor Sam. Very sad. She waited until he'd left to go back to her desk and sit down in her chair, sighing heavily. Yeah, people probably wouldn't notice that Sam was sad, but of course they wouldn't. Sam was how Sam had always been. They'd never seen anything different so they had nothing to compare it to, but she had a feeling she was right, only Sam didn't even like that he was sad, so he pretended that he wasn't. He pretended he was perfectly fine. He did all the normal things that other people did, or almost all, and told himself he was fine.

She knew because she'd done that, too. Pretended, told herself something that wasn't true because she didn't want to face up to what _was_ true, but, as Elizabeth had once said, she'd not been identifying the barriers blocking her path to happiness, to wholeness, she'd been denying them, she'd been lying and saying everything was fine, imagining everything was fine, not imagining a better tomorrow, or how to go about making it come true, but imagining nothing needed changing because it was _all_ fine.

And that was not a good place to be in, as she recalled.

.

Nina sat on the end of her bed, sewing needle in hand, Joss Stone's "What Were We Thinking" playing from the stereo, sewing the tiny black button back onto her blouse. She smiled, cutting off the excess thread with a scissor, and set her blouse aside, standing up to put the needle and scissor away in an old wooden box on her vanity complete with fading pastel painting depicting some happy scene: a picnic by the lake on a warm, sunny day.

As she looked up from closing the box, she caught sight of her image in the mirror and stopped. Perusing the image, she suppressed a sigh. Sam was right. In this light, her bra might as well have been black; there wasn't much difference between dark blue and black.

She frowned, thinking. Did that make her morbid? She didn't think so, but perhaps that wasn't the point. Perhaps the point was, the image she was projecting to the world said she was morbid. She'd always thought it made her look professional, but now she had reason to think it meant more than that.

She turned back to her bed, her eyes catching on her charcoal blouse and skipping to her wardrobe. She crossed the room quickly, pulling open her wardrobe doors and looked around. Everything was more of less of the same colour scheme. Dark, brooding.

She laughed, closing her wardrobe doors and turned back to her bed. What was she thinking? She wasn't some young thing out to catch some boy's eye. Why couldn't she dress how she liked? And if that meant airing her preference for dark colours, why wasn't that perfectly okay?

She closed her eyes, leaning back against the wardrobe. It didn't matter, did it? She was passed all that, wasn't she? She wasn't looking to catch anybody's eye, she just wanted to live her life, go to work everyday, and come home at the end of the night for a little shut eye.

She hadn't thought she was lonely, but what if she was? What if, like Sam, she just didn't want to see it, just didn't want the complication? What if she was living only half a life and she didn't even know?

She pressed a hand to her head and opened her eyes. If that was true, did she care, or was that something she could handle, something she could live with? She'd lived with it all these years, what was a couple more?

Dread filled her heart, telling her that there was a difference. The difference was, now she knew, now she really knew, and she knew it was true. She could go back to lying to herself silently, if she wanted, but the truth would weigh on her from now until the time she took her last breath. Sometimes, when you opened your mind to a truth, you couldn't close it off again. And sometimes, if you did, you became a traitor to yourself, to everything that mattered about living, that made living real.

She took a deep breath. She was too old! Besides, she was comfortable the way she was; she was happy. In a way. She didn't need to stir up all this trouble now, did she? She could just walk away.

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. She had let William walk away, hadn't she? They'd both let it happen. But now William was gone and he would never be able to change his mind, he'd never know if he'd made the right choice, if he'd lived his life for the right things, for himself, too.

But what were the right things? Everybody wanted success and security, wanted money and the finer things in life. If they had to make a choice, would they choose the path that led to true happiness, or material fixes? Would they look to nurture their heart and soul or line their pockets, gather awards and status? But, more importantly, what had she chosen? And did she still value the same things? Was she still the person she'd once been, or was she changed? Was she harder inside, or braver outside? Was her thinking flawed, her perception scratched? Was this what she'd been waiting for her whole life? This moment she realised...

Realised she was a person, like the rest. And she wanted love, too.

"Oh, this is _ridiculous_, Nina! Life could be so much worse, be thankful for what you have." But what did she really have? The chance to make a difference, to help herself and help the world, too. To have a voice, to really say something. But what was she saying? What did she think was important enough to promote, through her actions. What was she really defending? The good things or the bad? The heartfelt things, or the selfish?

She walked to the mirror and stared into it, staring at her red, red hair. Not all of her was shrouded in darkness, her hair was still bright and vibrant, and certainly not morbid or depressing. How had Sam _not_ seen that? How had _she_ not seen it, up 'til now?

She shook her head, smiling at herself. The next time she saw Sam, she'd have some news for him!

.

"Danielle?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"How was your weekend, dear?"

Danielle smiled forcibly. "Fine, ma'am. I had a good weekend. A great weekend."

"Hmm." Nina nodded.

Danielle frowned. "How was your weekend, ma'am?"

"Oh, fine."

"Great."

Nina smiled and turned away from the younger woman. In fact, her weekend had been the same as always. She still hadn't come up with a plan of action involving the Danielle/Brandon situation. She'd so been hoping to hear a note of something real in Danielle's voice, but it just wasn't there. The girl's weekend had been more of the same, nothing new or exciting there.

She heard the sound of Danielle walking away, to the door, and she wondered if what she was trying to do was the right thing. Did Danielle and Brandon even like each other, or were they both just playing the part expected of them?

She reached for her cell phone hurriedly, listening to it ring impatiently. When the line finally picked up, she didn't bother to introduce herself. "Any thoughts? I got nothing."

"Who is this?" Sam asked sleepily.

"It's Nina! Goodness me!" Nina glanced down at her watch and frowned. "Sam, get up! It's past twelve."

"No! That's a real shame. A real shame. Do you mind, I'm kinda busy."

"Don't you have anything to do?" Nina asked, annoyed now.

"Ah, yeah. I do. Sleep."

She laughed. "Uh-uh! Get up. You know where I work. Come over and we'll talk over lunch."

"Not hungry."

"Get hungry!" she snapped. "I'm hungry and I don't want to eat alone."

"You won't be alone, Nina. There's bound to be somebody else in the cafeteria when you're there."

"I don't want somebody else. Don't be demonstrative. Come over."

"I haven't thought of anything new," he replied.

"I don't care. I told you, I just want to talk. Nina wants to talk to Sam, not her partner in crime. You know that guy, right?"

"Strangely, nothing's coming to me."

She huffed. "Just be here, Sam!" she replied and hit the End Call button. She put her phone away and crossed her arms, turning to glance out over the city, but she didn't find respite there, just added irritability.

By goodness! She didn't need Sam being like this. She'd gotten used to the idea of Sam as a constant, but now she heard he was just another person, looking for someone to offer a helping hand, to remind him why he wanted to go on. It wasn't just about being alive, it was about living. She didn't need Sam's confusion now, when she was starting to question herself. She needed someone to stay strong to stay strong herself. She needed a guide. She needed the Sam she remembered, the Sam who'd given her hope.

And if she couldn't have that Sam back, what was she going to do? She'd just have to help Sam remember who he was. He wasn't pointless, he did help people. She'd always thought he'd found some sort of reward in that, some sort of closeness to his brothers and sisters and that had been okay, that had been his reason. But maybe it wasn't enough reason anymore, maybe he'd looked around and saw how much more there was to the world, and he'd felt alone, in the middle of it all, he'd felt left out, left behind.

She just needed to be persistent, encourage him to look for something to hold on to, something to give his life meaning again. She knew she could do it, if she could just talk to him. She had to, didn't she, if she ever hoped to get through herself. She really did need him. She wasn't kidding herself. She needed someone's hand to hold, for just a little while.

She needed to feel close to these people again, needed to believe she was one of them. If she couldn't connect with the people around her, she'd lost everything. The mirror only reflected what she wanted to see; it's picture wasn't accurate, but the people she met from day to day offered another picture, a fresh perspective. She needed their perspective, she needed to remember how to understand what they were saying.

She turned away from the window, glancing back down at her watch. A couple of minutes had passed, no more. She walked back to her desk and sat down in her chair, telling herself it would be okay. She wanted it to be okay, and the chance was there, was real, until it wasn't. She had to keep hope.

Sam would come, she wouldn't be alone.

.

"Nina."

"Sam, ditch the grumpy look."

"Make me."

She laughed. "Am I _hurting_ you, Sam?"

"Yes," he replied morbidly.

"Oh, that's not true!"

"No. You're right. I'm just a fool. I'm hurting myself, I listened to you."

Nina shook her head. "You listened to reason, to the _truth_. You know you can't just drift through life; you've got to go to Scarborough Fair. You've got to move through life; you've got to have goals, places to stop along the way and take stock, decide if the path you're travelling is working for you or not. If not, maybe it's time to try another path."

"Sounds like you've got it all worked out," Sam muttered. "What do you need me for?"

"I guess I'm just sentimental that way. I like talking to you."

"No you don't. I remind you of how you took back your life, that's all. It's not that you like talking to me at all, it's that you need the reminder, you _like_ the reminder. It's just about boosting your own ego."

"Sam, that isn't a very nice thing to say, but I'm going to let it go today because it's also a very negative thing to say, and I don't like seeing you so negative. Why can't you just accept the fact that I consider you something of a friend and leave it at that."

"And why do I want to be your friend, again? Oh, right, because you're Nina Sharp! You're-" He laughed. "You know, I don't think there are quite words for it!" He winked at her. "You're It!"

"Sam, you're being incredibly morose. It does nothing to flatter your countenance."

He laughed. "I don't _care_. I'm not your show pony, Nina."

"No. But would it kill you to let me in? To let me be a friend to you the way you were to me?"

"Absolutely, it would."

"That's nonsense."

"No, it's not," he replied. "I have friends. I don't need any more."

She reached for her cup of coffee, then took her hand back. "Sam, give it up. You're not helping yourself. You always want to help other people but when it comes to helping yourself, it's suddenly pointless. I don't think so!"

"You are not my friend, Nina," he told her darkly. "You can talk and I'll go on overhearing you. Your choice."

"I don't want you to overhear me," she bristled. "I want you to listen!"

"Why? You don't know me; you're not my friend. And that _is_ my choice!"

She sighed and reached her hand across the table, placing it over Sam's. He pretended not to care, not to see the bracelet she was wearing, made out of some sort of polished exotic red stone. "You can come back, Sam. Just come back. I'm right here. The whole world is right here. Any time you want, you can come back."

She tried to catch his eye, but he turned his head away, looking at something across the room, instead.

She looked at the table, then took her hand back. "If you change your mind, try to remember, I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere." She looked down at her salad and suddenly didn't feel so hungry.

"Nice day, Nina. Almost seems a shame to be stuck inside, doesn't it?"

She lifted her gaze from her lunch and frowned. "Yes, it does seem like a shame," she agreed.

"You are my saving grace..." Danielle appeared at his side, humming along to the song playing through the cafeteria. He looked around at her and she shrugged a shoulder. "Some of the girls and I are having a karaoke night. You know anyone who might be interested in joining up? You... could come if you like. Squeeze some practise in flirting."

He laughed.

"What?"

"'What?' she asks."

She stared at him with unfathomable eyes. "What?" she repeated.

He just laughed, closing his eyes and pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead, smiling to himself.

"Brandon!" she complained. "What's so funny? Why are you laughing at me? Do I have something stuck in my teeth? Why can't I say 'what'? Open your eyes."

"You're just... amusing to me, Danielle," he told her, opening his eyes to look at her.

She frowned. "Well... is that a good thing or a bad?"

"A good thing. Definitely a good thing." He took a deep breath, smiling at her.

She stared at him, pouting, not quite sure she believed him. "Will you come?"

"Come where?"

"To karaoke night, Brandon!"

"Do I have to?"

"I'd like if you did," she said, her eyes hopeful.

"Says the girl with the beautiful eyes. Alright, you convinced me. It's those eyes, they just get to me and hold me hostage in their enthralling depths. If I could just find the counter-curse."

"Don't strain your eyes on my behalf," she told him, with a warm smile.

"Danielle, please!" A young woman dressed much the same as she was herself walked over and stopped by her side. "Brandon is _not_ invited! I hardly imagine he can sing, let alone... I mean, does he even _listen_ to music?"

"No, I listen to the pleading, agonised screams of tortured lab animals," Brandon replied casually.

The woman's eyes flashed and she glared at him disgustedly. "He's a creep, Danielle."

Danielle looked uncomfortable, stuck between the choice she wanted to make, and the choice she probably needed to make, if she hoped to keep her friends. "I... I promised I'd take him out and we'd do something fun, Lara. I sort of owe him. He helped me with my phone."

Lara stared at her weirdly. "Um, Danielle, he's not exactly your type, if you know what I mean. Why would you even promise something like that?"

"Because it was the right thing to do, Lara. Heck, it's not like I said, 'Come back to mine and we'll play farmers and roll in the hay'." She laughed.

Lara's eyes widened. "Did your doctor change your meds, hon?"

"No."

Lara blinked. "He's still not invited," she replied, glaring at Brandon. "You're not invited," she hissed, then turned on her heel and stalked away.

"Charming," Brandon replied.

"Yeah, Lara can be like that," Danielle said.

"It's cool, Danielle. I can hang back. I wasn't really enthused with the idea to begin with. Have fun with your friends."

"Brandon, I _want_ you to come!"

"No, you don't. You really don't. You don't want your friends hating you for bringing a creep along and ruining a perfectly good evening."

"You're not a creep, Brandon! And I don't think you are! Lara's just crabby! You shouldn't listen to her."

He sighed. "I know you don't think I'm a creep, Danielle, but I also know a lot of other people do."

"You shouldn't listen to them! They're mean!"

"Okay, Danie, as much as I appreciate what you're trying to do, and I love you for sticking by me, I know what I am. _I_ know. They're right, Danie. More or less, they're spot on the money. I am not saying you're wrong, because you can see a part of me they don't care for, they're not even looking for it, but I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to turn your friends against you, Danielle."

"If they can't respect my friends, then what kind of friends are they?" she replied. "They're selfish and I'd be better off if they weren't my friends."

The smile wiped off Brandon's face and he reached for her hands quickly, gathering them up in his own hands. "Danielle, that isn't true. They make you happy, I've seen it. They give you a reason to smile when you come in to work in the morning. You don't want to push them away. You don't want to be alone like that."

"I won't be alone," she told him. "I'll have you. You're my friend and you make me happy, Brandon. You make me smile."

He laughed. "Danie, it wouldn't be right of me. It would be extremely selfish."

She shook her head. "It's not your choice, Brandon. It's mine. I'd be the selfish one."

"No."

"I don't want to give you up, Brandon. I don't think I can."

"You hear, Brandon," Nina said. "She just can't do it."

"What is this?" he asked. "A conspiracy?"

Nina frowned. "'Conspiracy'? What is that word? What does it even mean?"

Danielle stepped towards Brandon quickly, putting her arms around him. "Please don't go. You make me want to be a better person. I need you. I really like you."

He sighed. "I really like you too."

"Go for it!" Nina mouthed to him.

He grinned, shaking his head. He put his arms around Danielle. "Ah, why not! Hey, Danie?"

"What?" she asked in a small voice.

"Let's stay friends, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed.

.

Nina was still smiling when Sam stood up suddenly, his food untouched. Danielle and Brandon had left to go get themselves some lunch and find a table. Nina stopped smiling and looked at Sam quickly.

"Seems like everything worked out in the end. Guess that means you won't be needing my help, after all," he said.

She frowned. "Sit down, Sam. Eat something."

"Not hungry."

"Don't. I don't want to hear that excuse again. Of course you need to eat. Don't be silly. Sit down."

He shook his head.

Nina stood up and walked around the table.

Sam laughed, taking steps backwards. "You can't make me stay, Nina."

She went to grab his hand. "Give-! Sam! Don't be like this, please! Sit down and have lunch with me."

"I have to go."

"You don't _have_ to!"

"Maybe not," he agreed. "But I _want_ to!"

She reached for his hand. "Please, Sam!"

"Keep saying that, Nina. It's not going to change a thing." He pulled his hand out of hers and turned and walked away from her.

"Sam, you're hurting me!" she whispered loudly, watching, just hoping he stopped and turned around, hoping he didn't just walk out on her. Sometimes, it felt like that's all everyone had done. In the end, one way or another, they'd all walked out on her. They'd looked at her, they'd seen the pretty facade, and they'd been satisfied, they'd bought the illusion and rest assured that she wouldn't need them when they were gone.

She hated sounding this hopeless, but it was also the truth. Just then, she _felt_ hopeless. Here she'd gone and put herself out there, and now she was standing all alone, confused, not knowing how to find her way back home, afraid that when she finally did find her way back, home wouldn't be what it had once been. She'd be looking at it all differently, she would no longer see what it had been before, even if nothing had changed.

She didn't care if she sounded like she was pleading because she _was_ pleading. "_Sam!_"

"Goodbye, Nina," Sam told her, but he didn't bother stopping or turning around. He just kept walking.

Nina stood there silently. Why did this always have to happen to her? What was wrong with her? Why did people find it so easy to just walk out on her?

She brushed a tear from her cheek and sat down dully. She didn't feel hungry anymore either, but she still made herself finish her lunch. Even if she was sick later, she didn't care. Somebody had to eat it.

Danielle frowned sadly. "Poor Nina. Are they a couple?"

Brandon shook his head. "I think he's her therapist."

"Wow! I don't know which is worse!"

"No, you're very right. They both involve as basis of trust. But when that trust breaks down: Eash! Watch out! It's gotta hurt."

Danielle sighed. "You don't really have to trust people to like them, that's the horrible part."

"What do you mean?" Brandon asked.

"Oh! No! I trust _you_, sweetie, I... I'm just saying."

"I see."

"I mean, you can't stop yourself from liking someone when you really like them, can you? Even if you know it's probably doomed from the start, you're still willing to give it a go on the off chance. Because it _could_ be great and you can't face having had a chance like that and letting it slip away. Loads of women like the bad boys. I don't know, they must imagine they can help somehow, or that they don't really care if he's good or bad, and sometimes, some people _don__'__t_ care. But for every one that doesn't care, there's one that does, and that's the one who _really_ cares, who doesn't just care about herself but her man, as well. Don't you think that's sad and horrible at the same time? I mean, I know, it's just _so_ love. Love is hard, but it's worth all of the tears and tantrums when you get it right. Ogh! I feel really bad for Nina now. I know he's just her therapist, but when you know people long enough, if you're a decent person, you start caring about them."

"Hey," Brandon said, smiling at her. "Who says this is the end?"

"Oh! You're so right!" She grinned suddenly. "I really hope it works out for them. Argh! Okay, okay. Brandon."

"Danie."

"I have a CD player at home. We could still have that karaoke night."

He laughed. "You bet we can!"

.

Nina trudged around the corner on her way to her car, frowning down at a file she was flipping through with a frown on her face. She was missing something vital, she just couldn't say what. It was really starting to get to her.

"You know, you should really watch where you're walking."

She stopped and looked up from her file.

Sam glanced around. "Come away from there. Come over here. Come on."

She snapped her file shut and didn't move an inch.

"Nina, come here."

"I don't want to," she said simply.

He smiled. "Yeah you do."

She looked away from him, then closed her eyes. "I really don't."

Someone touched her back. She snapped open her eyes and glared at Sam.

"Come on," he said. "You can't stand there. It isn't safe."

"I don't see how you deduced that, Mr. Weiss. I beg to differ. I think I'm _perfectly_ safe. This is my workplace."

"It's also the middle of the road," he said. "Come on, I have something for you."

"I don't want anything from you," she replied frostily.

"That's not what you said before."

"I changed my mind. It's not a crime."

"Well, that depends... but let's not get into that particular minefield right now. Come on. Just let me do this one thing, and then I'll go, if that's what you want."

She held her file close to her chest and begrudgingly took a step forward, away from the middle of the road. Sam seemed to take this as a sign of agreement and walked off ahead. She followed him, barely holding back a scowl the entire time. When they stopped at her car, she _did_ scowl.

"I'm not really good with apologies," Sam admitted, "so I thought I'd do something different, instead." He looked at her car.

Nina glared at him, then followed his gaze to her car. A bunch of roses lay on the seat beside the driver's: black roses. She refrained from pulling a face, just thankful Sam had stuck around after all. If he hadn't been around to explain it to her, she'd probably have thought someone was making a death threat against her. She was just imagining that exciting scene when it occurred to her that her car had been locked when she'd left it that morning. "You broke into my car!"

"I... I... Yeah. Then I decided it would be more sincere if I... gave the flowers to you in person, but I couldn't..."

"Break into my car again?" Nina growled.

"Pretty much, yeah," he admitted.

She set the file in her hands down on the car bonnet and turned to him with a glare. "You're impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

"I apologise, Nina."

"Why bother? You're not going to ever change!"

"Depends, but probably not, no." He frowned. "Could you... o-open the car? I dropped my keys."

Nina shook her head, getting out her car keys. She pushed him away from her car and turned back to unlock the door, leaning down to pick up his keys and turned around, depositing of them into his open hand roughly. "Leave me alone, Sam. I'm not in a good mood."

"I can tell. Listen, Nina, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like that. I know you were only trying to help."

"Forget it," she scowled, grabbing her file off the bonnet and whirring back to the open car door. "I don't need your apology!"

"I can understand that," Sam said.

She turned and glared at him suddenly, her eyes dark with anger. "I don't have _time_ for you, Sam!"

"I know." He stepped closer. "And I am sorry, but that's not why I came back. I came back to say 'goodbye'."

She laughed. Oh, here it came!

Sam smiled, looking into her eyes. He didn't flinch at the angry look in hers, but lifted a hand to touch her face, softly caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

Nina didn't move, just stood there frozen, determined not to react. On pain of death, she would never admit how that little act, that little touch, took her breath away. She'd just die.

She would never speak out loud just how beautiful his eyes were when he smiled, when he _really_ smiled. Her heart beat a little faster knowing that that smile was just for her, but still she didn't react.

If Sam was going away then she wasn't going to stop him.

A car drove past but she didn't even turn to look. She kept her eyes locked with Sam's. She was waiting for him to turn around and walk away. It was getting late. She had to be getting home, but if he thought she was going to say "goodbye" then he was sadly mistaken. She'd already said goodbye, back in the cafeteria. She wouldn't say it again. Sam could stare at her all night, if he wanted to play it like that, and she still wouldn't give in.

He'd said he wasn't anybody's plaything and she intended not to be, either. If he still cared at all, he'd give up this foolish game and just go.

Sighing, Sam closed his eyes and pulled her into a hug.

Nina didn't move a muscle. If she didn't play into his game, he'd lose interest and leave. He was just trying to reassure himself, to tell himself he was doing the right thing in saying goodbye. He'd probably even decided maybe he'd miss her. She didn't want any part in his pretences anymore. He was damaged. He wasn't a bad guy, but he needed help.

He whispered something into her hair she didn't understand, in another language, she supposed. She didn't ask him to explain. She didn't want to hear his explanation. She wanted him to go, she wanted him to step back. She didn't like being this close to him. It made her chest ache, made it just want to stop beating and curl up and die. She was afraid to breathe, afraid to feel.

Sam and his crazy antics were bloody killing her! Could he not understand what he was doing to her?

He took a heavy breath, at long last, and she closed her eyes. That was the signal. He was going. She'd be okay. She'd make it through this. Sooner than she knew, she'd be heading off home.

"Thank you for believing in me, Nina," he told her calmly, drawing back to look into her face.

She said nothing. She tried not to look into his eyes, to focus, instead, on some invisible spot of thin air between them. She hoped she wasn't going cross-eyed.

He leant closer suddenly, resting his head against hers. "You were always good to me," he said.

She couldn't move or step back, she was practically standing _on_ her car, so she did the only thing she could. She just couldn't breathe! She put her hands up to his chest to push him away. The plan didn't play out exactly as anticipated. She push him away, but then hand decided to do its own thing and ended up tangled up in his hair, and her lips were suddenly pressed to his. She thought she might faint from shock, but something else happened instead. A warm feeling spread through her body and she felt a little like she was melting, her heart pounding madly in her chest but she didn't feel any pain.

Her other hand pulled Sam back and, for some reason, he didn't try to stop her. Terror made her shiver, but it was a strangely good kind of terror. The strangeness of that didn't even register in her mind, everything was just so compelling. She couldn't have pulled herself away if she'd been able to untangle her thoughts and emotions and get herself together enough to tell herself she really needed to stop this now. The outside world, rational thought, couldn't touch her in this place.

She didn't hear the car door slam, didn't feel the thud when she came up against the side of the car, all she knew was that Sam wasn't going away, and that he was very definitely kissing her back.

.

"This is the right way," Olivia told him, when he looked around with a searching frown. She grinned and leant her head against his shoulder. "Come on."

Peter sighed and they kept walking.

"I memorised the layout," Olivia added.

Peter turned to smile at her affectionately. She was so wonderful!

"Wait! Stop! Stop, stop." She grabbed his arm, holding onto it tightly.

He frowned.

Olivia put a hand up to her mouth and he turned to follow her gaze.

"Is that Nina's car?" he asked with horror.

"Yeah, and I think that's Nina."

"You think?"

"It's the hair."

"I see what you mean," Peter returned, in a whisper.

"It looks serious," Olivia said. "Maybe we should come back later."

Peter coughed. "Oh God!"

Olivia looked at him quickly, squeezing his hand. "It's not Walter."

"Yeah," he replied weakly. He hadn't thought it was Walter. Even so, it was still pretty awkward to see. He glanced at Olivia, hoping to meet her eye, but she was distracted by the making out going on across the road. An odd smile lingered about her mouth. "Olivia?" he asked cautiously.

"Mmm?" Her voice was sort of dreamy, distant.

"Olivia?" He touched her arm.

She looked at him suddenly, her eyes widening on his. She smiled at him with loving affection. "I know who it is," she whispered.

Peter frowned. "Do I want to know?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, you don't want to know?" Olivia seemed surprised by that, but smiled back at him.

"No." He lifted his chin. "You'd best tell me."

"It's Sam," she told him, that same dreamy smile slipping onto her lips.

"Livvy?"

"Peter? Please take me away. I think I'm having one of my moments."

Peter slipped an arm around her back and turned her around, holding her close by his side, and headed back to the building. Coming up on the entrance, they bumped into Walter.

"Peter! Olivia!" He smiled at them both brightly, then his smile slipped as he noticed Olivia's dreamy expression, her head leant on Peter's shoulder.

Olivia giggled.

"Is she okay, Peter?" Walter asked, shocked and a little frightened too.

"Yeah. She will be," Peter said. "She'll be fine, Walter."

"Are we going home?" Walter asked.

Peter nodded. Yes, that would probably be best, at this point.

Olivia reached over a hand to touch Walter's cheek.

"Oh."

Peter smiled at him.

"Did she take something, Peter?" Walter asked.

"Ah, no." Peter winced. He tried to retrieve the keys from Olivia's jacket pocket, but she started giggling loudly, so he stopped. "Livvy," he tried, "can I please have the car keys? They're just in your pocket." He pointed. "Right there."

She slipped a hand into her pocket and handed over the keys, giggling again. She didn't want to let go of his hand.

Walter touched her arm carefully. "Olivia?"

"Hello, Walter," she whispered, giving him a warm smile.

"What happened to her, Peter?" Walter asked, letting her hold onto his hand.

"Ah, I'm not sure, Walter. It just... happened."

Walter narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Just happened? He wasn't so sure he was willing to believe _that_.

Going for the lock, the keys dropped out of Peter's hand and he quickly picked them back up again. "I swear to you, Walter, she hasn't taken anything!" He finally got the car open and reached around to open the back door, then turned to take Olivia's hand from Walter. He led her to the back seat, stroking her hair and leaning in to press a kiss to the side of her head. "It's late, my love. You're tired. Why don't you close your eyes and get some rest? I promise I'll wake you when we get home."

She smiled at him.

He picked up her hand and kissed it, then reached over to put her seatbelt on. "I'll be just over there," he told her, pointing to the front, "I'm not going anywhere." He stepped back and closed the door carefully, then turned to Walter seriously. "Come on, Walter. Let's go home."

Once he'd buckled his seatbelt, Walter turned around to check on Olivia. "I think she's sleeping," he reported quietly.

Peter sighed with relief, but merely nodded.

Walter frowned but didn't say any more.

.

The chilly night air cooled Nina's burning cheeks and she listened to her heartbeat thudding in her chest, staring up at the stars shining weakly against the dark velvet sky. She could feel Sam's heart pounding against her own. He was just holding her, his head rested against the cold glass of the window at her back.

They'd been standing like that for a while, just catching their breath and waiting for their thoughts to clear. She could hear Sam breathing heavily and had to hold herself back from starting anything. They'd just had a moment. A crazy, inexplicable, passionate moment. The first and last.

"I'm sorry, Nina," Sam whispered.

"It was my fault," she replied, dropping her eyes from the night's sky. "Thank you for the flowers," she added.

His shoulders started to shake.

Her eyes widened, but she stayed silent, afraid she'd only make it worse. Finally, she couldn't stop from speaking. Her throat hurt from not speaking. "Don't cry, Sam," she whispered. "You didn't hurt me. I had fun." She slipped her arms around him and held him. "Shhh. I don't blame you for anything. Shhh. Shhh..."

.

Olivia gulped down the glass of water Peter had brought over for her and set the glass down on the table, looking up to meet Peter's eyes. "I think I'm better now. I feel better. I'm sorry for scaring you."

He shook his head. "Hey, I wasn't scared. I trust you, Olivia. I know you would have said something if you thought what was happening to you was dangerous."

He pulled out a chair and sat down next to her, slipping his hand into hers.

"I feel really awkward now," she whispered.

He smiled.

She laughed and shook her head at him. "Why are you smiling, sweetheart?"

"I love you."

She squeezed his hand, smiling back at him. Her eyes flickered away, to Walter. "I'm fine now, Walter," she said. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I don't know why it happened, but I had a bit of an empath moment. I..."

"It was this couple," Peter spoke up. "They were kissing."

Olivia giggled and smacked a hand over her mouth.

Walter frowned.

She smiled at him weakly, dropping her hand.

Walter walked over and leant down to hug her. "Sleep well, darling," he told her.

"Thank you, Walter," she whispered. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Olivia." He straightened up, stepping away. "Goodnight, Peter."

Peter winked at him. "Walter."

Olivia lifted Peter's hand to her face and rested her cheek against it, listening to Walter walk away quietly.

Peter smiled and caught her gaze. "Hey!"

"Hey!" she breathed. She let him have his hand back and stood up, frowning at her hands. She didn't know what had come over her, she just knew it was just now starting to fade completely.

Peter walked over and scooped her up into his arms with a little yelp. She broke into happy laughter. "Let's go to bed, darling," he whispered into her ear.

"Let's," she whispered back, kissing the end of his nose.

They were walking out the door when Peter stopped and backed up. "Oh, get the light!"

Olivia flicked the switch, dousing the room in darkness.

"Thanks, baby."

She laughed. "Put me down, sweetheart," she said. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Mmm-mm."

"Peter Bishop, sometimes you're just too stubborn!" she admonished.

"I know!"

"You! I love you!"

"I know." He grinned.

She couldn't help laughing. "Peter."

"Almost there."

She shook her head. "Crazy man!"

"You betcha!"

"Crazy, crazy man! Let's have babies. At least four or five! We'll have our own tribe."

"Ugh! Are you sure?" He sounded aghast, then unsure.

"Why?" Olivia questioned, grinning when they made it to the stop of the stairs. "Don't you want children?"

"Absolutely!" Peter said. "But I'm not the one who's going to have to have them."

"Just hold my hand and I'll be fine," she told him softly.

He kissed her head and stepped into his room. A few seconds later, he was lying her down on the bed gently. "We're here."

She grinned. "Finally!" She propped herself up on her elbows and smiled at him. When he joined her on the bed and kissed her, she fell back on the mattress and kissed him back.

Now _this_ didn't feel awkward at all!

.

Nina wasn't quite sure why she'd said it, it had just tumbled out before she'd been able to stop it back up again, and then Sam had said, "I don't have a home," and she'd replied, "To wherever it is you're staying then," and they'd been on their way.

The drive there was spent in silence, except for the times when Sam had to give directions. Nina was trying to keep her mind focussed on driving, but she just couldn't understand it at all. She'd never harboured even the slightest romantic intentions for Sam before, so what had changed, and why did she seem fine now? Why did she not even feel a lingering trace of those intentions, in the back of her mind?

She had enjoyed the kiss they'd shared. She could still remember enjoying it, so why was she suddenly so indifferent? It wasn't just that Sam was leaving; it was more than that. Much more. It frightened her, but even so, she couldn't help feel a little safer with Sam around.

Sam would never let anything bad happen. He cared about the humans. He cared about her. They'd known each other for years, how could he not? He mightn't have been the best at showing it but that didn't mean it wasn't true. If he hadn't cared, he wouldn't have bothered trying to apologise, she thought, it was that simple for her.

Sam had just told her something – turn left at the next intersection – when the reason occurred to her, the reason she'd suggested she drove him home. She was worried about him. But she knew that whatever strange thing was happening, whatever was happening between them that she couldn't begin to explain, to ever guess at, Sam would not hurt _her_. And she had to be around to make sure he didn't get hurt, either.

Even if Sam was running away, even if he knew so much that could still help them so much, it wasn't all as complicated as it seemed. Once, a long time ago, he'd been a friend to her. She just wanted to be a friend to him now, when he needed it. Balancing the scales, that's all it was. If she put aside everything else, all of that human stuff, and looked at it simply, it made sense. He'd helped her out once, and now she was repaying the favour. The universe was all about balance, what could have been more simpler than that?

She had no reason to be afraid or unsure. She was doing the right thing, maintaining the order of the universe. Surely nothing bad could come of that.

Taking yet another left turn, she was mildly surprised to see that they'd come to a trailer park. She'd expected a motel or a hotel, but perhaps Sam preferred keeping his distance from the other people. She could understand that. It must have been hard for him, after all these years, deciding to do something like this. He'd gotten used to his routine, to his role in the world, and then it had so suddenly changed, it had suddenly become something hurtful to him, his enemy.

She parked the car where he told her and turned to meet his eyes. "Sam, if trouble comes to your door and knocks, I wouldn't hold it against you if you just pretended you weren't home."

"I don't have a home," he replied simply.

"The Earth is your home, Sam, so yes you do. I don't like the sounds of this Pluto place. You just stay right here, with us. On Earth."

"I guess I have no choice," he sighed dully.

She reached over to touch his arm. "You have your heart in the right place, so, no, perhaps you don't have any choice, not without compromising everything in you, all your beliefs, but there will be other choices, smaller choices, perhaps, that, depending on what you decide, will really help you out, will help to put your troubled heart at rest. I do think you're a wonderful person, Sam, I just wish you could see that you are."

"You may think so, Nina, but that doesn't mean it's true."

"I suppose you've done so many criminal things, it's simply unfathomable."

"I broke into your car."

"Well, it's just a car," she conceded. "And it was with good intentions."

"Doesn't matter. It's still against the law."

"Maybe I left my car open, and it merely slipped my mind, later on," she suggested.

He laughed. "No, you didn't."

"Sam, a little less of this argumentativeness would be nice. Yes, I can see how that just sounded incredibly bitchy, but I'm trying to say goodbye, and I have a feeling this is going to be my last chance. Usually, I wouldn't bother. Nobody bothers saying goodbye to me anyway. I don't have to say anything back. But you did. So it's fair enough."

"I take it back," he replied, reaching for the car door and shrugging away from her. "Have a nice night."

"Sam."

"I don't want you to say goodbye. Don't inconvenience yourself on my behalf."

She laughed. "You're not an inconvenience, Sam. I wish you would get that into your head! You must stop thinking like that or else you'll wind up in the same situation all over again and you _still_ won't like it. Change your process, institute positive change within your thought process, and you can do anything! It's not changing the world, exactly, but it's a close second. Every little bit helps, as they say."

Sam sighed and pushed open the car door, getting out. He closed the door after him.

Nina got out on the other side, hurrying around the front of the car to stop him at his door. "Hey, you didn't let me finish."

He opened the door and put his key away, sighing. "I'm listening. Say what you want to say. It's not exactly summer weather out here."

"Sarcasm. It will get you everywhere and nowhere. Cute. I just wanted to say good luck. I don't particularly believe in the idea," she tipped her hand from side to side, indicating that she wasn't for or against, "but I thought it couldn't hurt saying it, either. And you deserve it. So good luck," she offered up a smile, "and goodbye."

He frowned into her eyes. "Stay safe getting home."

She laughed. "Always do." She stumbled away from him, her eyes widening. Oh crap! It was happening again!

"Nina?"

"Don't touch me, Sam! I have to... go..." She turned back toward her car, but Sam stepped away from his door to catch her arm.

"I'm so sorry, Sam!" She just knew it was going to be worse this time. Much, much worse. She turned back around slowly, with tears in her eyes, and Sam's hand slipped from her arm.

.

September waited until they'd gone inside before walking to the car and opening the door. This time, Nina really had left her car unlocked.

.

Olivia woke with a start, her heart beating like crazy, her eyes too wide. She could feel Peter's arms around her, his warm, comforting presence close to her, but it somehow didn't help all that much. "Oh God, Peter!"

"Olivia?" He'd been sleeping, but she'd just woken him up. "Olivia, what's wrong?" He was properly awake now, he was paying attention now.

"It's happening again," she whispered.

"Wh-? How is that possible?" There was nobody else around but them.

She stared at him in horror, mirroring his expression the first time he'd seen Nina and Sam together in the car park. "I have to call Nina! Somebody is doing this. I didn't understand before, but now I do!"

Peter grabbed her phone off the bedside stand and handed it to her quickly.

.

Reaching for the phone that had just started ringing, September switched it off and closed the car door.

.

"Shit!" Olivia winced. "She's not picking up." she shook her head and tried Sam's number instead. The carrier said it was a wrong number: probably disconnected. "Shit!"

"How bad can it be?" Peter asked, frowning across at her. "Not to sound like I couldn't care less, but is it..."

"Like last time?" Olivia finished for him. "Yeah! But no!" She put a hand to her chest, then took it away again. She didn't need to know how hard her heart was beating. "Peter!" She turned to look at him wildly, reaching for his hand.

He held onto her hand, smiling at her as best he could. He was worried about her, but he couldn't imagine how worried she must have been, at that moment. "Okay. It's okay."

She shuffled closer and leant her head against his chest and he held her.

.

"Do you have the file? Is it done?"

"It is done," September replied, handing him the file.

December didn't say any more, but merely watched him walk away. He didn't even glance at the file when he walked to the nearest dumpster and tossed it away. A couple of minutes later, someone arrived.

"Does he suspect?" July asked, coming to stand at his side.

"He suspects nothing," December replied, refraining from shooting the other a dark look. "It is necessary," he said, before July could even ask his question.

July didn't argue after that. "What was in the file?" he asked, instead.

"I do not know," December replied.

"September?"

December threw him a sharp look, then regretted it. "He is loyal. He did not look in the file. It was not required of him."

"August was loyal, also," July recalled. "Until he was no longer."

"Your thoughts are suspicious," December snapped. "Do not let September hear of them. You will put in jeopardy everything we are trying to do. There is no other way. You know this, July."

"I do," July replied dully. He did not like it, but he knew December was right. There was no other way. They had taken months to find the right one. They couldn't mess up now, when they were so close.

It had to be done.

.

Rachel bit her lip, tapping on the fuel gauge and frowning. "Rachel! Argh!" She moaned, kicking herself for not remembering to refuel _before_ the indicator showed empty.

Sighing heavily, she pulled over on the side of the road and got out, looking up and down the road and biting her lip again. It looked like she had a long walk ahead of her, but she didn't have any other choice. She couldn't just run the car until it clagged out. She'd have to walk to the nearest service station and get some petrol, then, joy of her life, she'd have to walk back again.

She leant a hand on the side of her door and looked down at her high heels, then decided that she couldn't afford to ruin them, or her ankles walking in them on the side of the road, and slipped them off.

So much for her big day!

Taking one last look at her portfolio on the back seat, she threw her shoes down into the foot well and locked up the car, and started walking. At least it was a nice day for it. It wasn't as cold as yesterday and there was a bit of sun about, between the smattering of white clouds in the sky.

.

She hadn't been walking for no more than half an hour when a car slowed behind her as though to stop and offer her a lift, but she didn't stop and turn around. The bottoms of her feet were murdering her but she didn't have time for a little chitchat about directions or the weather or any nosy persons. She had to get to the nearest service station, get her gasoline, and go. She had places to be.

And she didn't have time for people who thought they'd be doing her a service by offering a lift and then demanding to know her life's story. Ugh!

Stabbing her foot on a piece of broken off stalk, she winced, and dropped her shoulders sadly. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "Please don't be a serial killer. _Please_ don't be a serial killer!" She really didn't have any choice. Opening her eyes, she turned quickly and hoped the car hadn't driven off in the meantime. It hadn't.

She tried to put a smile on her face and walked back the way she'd come, back toward the car. Oh God, she hated asking complete strangers for help, but she'd just have to grit her teeth and get it out. She really needed to make it to this meeting or she'd be screwed. She'd be screwed, and so would Ella.

And she couldn't let that happen.

"Where are you headed?" the man asked, when she walked over and stopped by his car window.

She shrugged, feeling foolish. "My car ran out of gas so I guess I'm headed to the nearest gas station." She sighed, resisting the urge to blurt out, 'You're not a serial killer, are you? I happen to think serial killing is wrong,' which would probably only make her sound like an even bigger fool than she already felt. Who would actually think serial killing _wasn__'__t_ wrong? Apart from a serial killer, obviously.

"I think there's a place not far from here, actually. Yeah. I remember now. It's, well, you can't see it from here, but it's not far by vehicle."

"Awesome! You're a lifesaver! Thank you so much!" She smiled at him. Ugh! The buttering up was starting to make her feel nauseous. Yes, she was thankful he'd decided to stop, but she'd just never been good with the whole gratitude thing. It seemed sorta logical, like it didn't need to be said. Then again, she still always did say so. It was like when you loved someone; they liked to hear you tell them you still loved them, every once in a while. It was just like that. No biggie.

Walking around to the other side of the car, she really hoped the guy wasn't a serial killer.

"Bad luck, huh?" he said, hitting the indicator and pulling the car back out onto the road.

"Oh, that's just me! Forgetful 'til the last! If I don't want to do it, I have this habit of scrubbing it out of my mind completely. It's painful. I usually keep a list of all the things I've got to do in a day, but I _forgot_ to look at my list yesterday. Argh! Hence, no gas, and no car. It's my own fault." She sighed. "I'm Mimi, by the way."

"John."

"Awesome!" She sounded like she was spaced out on something, but she _almost_ didn't care. Awesome! and her just didn't work well together, but it wouldn't be long, she told herself, and then she'd be back on the road for real. "I love your car," she said with a smile. "It's so comfy."

Rachel! No! Not with the stupid comments, any more. She could just imagine how that one could be misconstrued, but it was true, and she just wasn't very good at lying. Her feet were still kicking her, but it felt _loads_ better to be off them for a while. She settled back in her seat and smiled at him again. He wasn't looking at her. She glanced at the fuel gauge, just to be sure John's car wasn't about to give up the ghost on her too!

Er... Painfully, she kept right on smiling, but she really didn't feel like smiling anymore. Apparently it wasn't John's car, or else he'd just lost his keys and decided to hotwire his _own_ car. That one made her want to laugh.

He glanced at her and caught the look on her face, smiling back at her. "What?"

"Oh, um," she twisted some hair around her finger nervously, doing her best to keep up the happy, trusting facade. It actually hurt. "Nothing. It's just... my first boyfriend's name was John, too." As soon as she said it, she knew she'd done it again, but anything had to be better than saying it was her grandfather's name, right. Because it wasn't and that would totally suck. Ugh! She just knew she had to take Lying for Success classes, or something. She was such an idiot!

"Is that right?"

She almost breathed a sigh of relief, so thankful the guy hadn't made more of her idiotic comment. "I know! Weird, right!"

"Interesting, not weird."

"Yeah, I mean..." she stopped playing with her hair and put her hand in her lap (that was probably the wrong message to be sending, too), "you're right. What are the odds?"

"John's not all that an uncommon name."

"No, but... maybe there's some cosmic meaning behind us meeting like this?" Ray-chel! You crazy woman! Shut up! "In a non-creepy way," she added. His name probably wasn't even John, just like her name wasn't Mimi.

"Perhaps," he agreed.

She smiled. "I... I don't know what you're thinking right now, but if you're thinking maybe I'm some crazy serial killer chick, I'm not."

"I wasn't, actually, but it's always nice to know," he replied.

"Assuming I'm not lying to you," she furthered. Rachel! Damn it all!

He laughed, forgetting about the road and staring at her. "You're not are you?"

"No." She nodded to the windscreen. "But, ah, maybe I'd better just shut up and let you get back to driving."

"I agree."

She nodded. "Sorry."

He shrugged, back to watching the road. "It'll be any time now."

"Yeah, good." She peered out the front window, searching for any small sign of a building up ahead. She hoped _he_ wasn't a lying serial killer. At least he hadn't asked about her missing shoes, she told herself.

Outside, the paddocks and paddocks of farmland suddenly gave way to forest, and Rachel felt suddenly colder. When the car started to slow and she looked around and saw nothing but more trees, she was positively freezing. She'd always meant to take self-defence classes, or at least ask Liv to show her how to bust a few moves, she'd just never got around to it. The best she could do was the Twist, and that really only worked in discos, and not even really there anymore, these days.

"John, tell me the car's not just decided to go on strike."

"No, the car is fine, Rachel."

"Mimi!" Her eyes widened and she grabbed for the door handle, thinking how mad that was seeing at the car hadn't _stopped_ yet, but it wouldn't open anyway. Central locking. "What do you want?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain calm, forcing herself to look him in the eye without freaking out completely.

"It isn't this, but unfortunately, I'm going to have to insist."

.

"You _told_ him?" July winced, trying to understand the logic in that. It didn't work; it was still completely illogical.

"He was understanding. He could see why it has to be so," December replied.

"You are certain of this?"

"Do not question me, July! I have consulted with those required. They also believed that honesty is our best option."

"You say this _now_. After everything that has happened. You might have decided a little earlier, December."

"It is not your place to find distress, July. Decisions take time, and knowledge. At the time, we did not have the knowledge we now have. We did not know. Should our decisions turn out to have been unwise, and the plan does not eventuate as expected, we know we will have a back up in place."

"And that will not be distressing for September?"

"It is required."

"August was not distressed by this. Why did you not suggest we move forward with the plan when we discovered he had altered the natural course of events? It would have been... best?"

"She was not the one," December replied simply, getting to his feet and walking away.

July glanced at the waitress, then looked away quickly. She was right to stare, he was allowing himself to get caught up in something he needn't have distressed himself over. Things would happen as foreseen; they did not interfere. The universe knew how best to look after itself.

Only today, it wasn't the universe that needed a helping hand. It was them. If they did not do this, the time would come that they would cease to be, and that was not an option. There had to be a way to stop that from happening. They were required. They were important. They understood the universe. They could not die.

.

"What? I don't understand what you just said."

"You were not meant to," he replied, turning to glance at her panicked eyes. "Rachel – Mimi, if you'd prefer – I do not wish to hurt you. Please, do not make me."

She shook her head, pressing herself against the car door and wishing she could just melt into it and disappear.

"I cannot influence you. Do you understand? If you do not agree, I will have no choice but to hurt you, whether I want to or not."

"Agree? What... what? What do you expect me to agree _to_, J-john? If that even is your name!"

"It is not."

She started taking small sips of air, panic finally taking over.

"You are hurting yourself," he told her. "It is not necessary."

"I don't know what you want from me!" she shouted at him, hot tears finally slopping down her face silently, making her makeup run. She didn't budge from the door.

He tried to think how he might word his reply so it wouldn't frighten her further, but for once, nothing came to him. He looked into her eyes but for some reason, he could not impress upon this woman what needed to be done, or how important it was.

He'd tried his best to placate her. He'd talking to her how she expected he should. He'd dredged up some suitable feeling to display on his face. He'd done everything he could. But the others were pushing him. They wanted to get this over and done with.

"What do you want?" Rachel pleaded, so he merely nodded.

You.

.

"Are you going to kill me?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Why me?"

"You are the one. I do not know why."

"You don't know! What does that even mean?" She was crying again, almost hiccuping. It was disconcerting. "Why did you choose me?"

"You were there," he lied. "Who knows why the universe works the way it does, Rachel?"

"You know my _name_!"

"It's written on your bracelet," he said.

Her eyes widened and she stared in horror at the colourful bracelet made of an assortment of round, square and flower-shaped beads, some of them – the silver and black ones – spelling out her name, adorning her wrist. It certainly wasn't something she'd bought at a jewellery store. The beads were plastic and mass produced. "I don't like lying!" she tried to make him understand. If he was angry at her for lying, she wasn't happy about it, either. If that was why he'd chosen her, then maybe he should have taken a look in the mirror. He'd lied to her too!

But then, that wasn't why he'd chosen her at all. He'd chosen her because he'd wanted to. Any excuses he made up after the fact were superfluous and nothing more than lies and fabrications to appease his own conscience.

But he wasn't going to kill her, he'd said so. She didn't believe him, but he'd still said it. She had to believe he'd had a reason for saying it. If he'd just enjoyed terrorising other people, then he wouldn't have bothered answering her question. Not true, Rachel, her mind interjected. If what he enjoyed was messing with people's heads, then he was going exactly the right way about it.

She didn't want to do anything he said, but she didn't know what to do. Should she try to escape? There was little point in screaming, or trying to go for her phone, at this point. He'd only grab it off her and she'd never see it again.

She was just starting to regain some small measure of hope, imaging, that if she played along with him, a chance would have to open up, and then she'd run. She'd run as fast as she could, get as far away as she could, and ring for help. But then she remembered that her cell phone wasn't on her, it was lying in her car.

Her heart sunk. Suddenly, without thinking, she lunged at him.

His eyes widened, as though he hadn't expected her to try that, and he stumbled back, out of the car. She didn't bother explaining how he'd managed to get the door open without turning to open it, she didn't _care_ how, she scrambled out after him and ran for it, hardly able to hear anything over the sound of her heart racing. She didn't even care where she ran, she just kept running.

She didn't get very far before he caught her around the waist and brought them both crashing down to the ground in a painful tangle of limbs and twigs and ground.

"Stay still!" he growled. "Do not struggle."

She could hear how much he hadn't enjoyed having to chase after her and knew she wouldn't have long before he caught his breath. She did everything she could to get up, to scramble to hands and feet, but he was holding onto her tight.

"Rachel, stop struggling!"

She froze. He didn't sound out of breath, it was something different. A part of her hoped it was bad, lethally bad, but another part of her was scared. She didn't want to hurt anyone, she didn't want anyone to die. She just wanted him to leave her alone!

When she breathed, she found it was easier. He wasn't holding her so tightly anymore.

"Please stay!" he whispered. "I can't... I can't fight them for much longer."

She could feel her heart slamming against her chest, it felt like it wanted to break free and just go somewhere, somewhere far away from here. She sat up, scrambling away from him, but she didn't jump to her feet and pelt away. "What are you talking about?" she whispered loudly, between heaving breaths.

His eyes started to roll in his head.

She crawled over and shook his arm. "Hey! Hey, don't go!" Shit! If he died, she just knew someone would find a way of pinning it to her.

"I can't..."

"I'll do it. I'll do it. Okay." She felt herself nodding, her hands still gripping his arm. "I'll do it. You don't have to... you don't have to fight it anymore." She brushed a tear away from her face and took a deep breath. "I'll do it."

He murmured something in that strange language and closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

She gave his arm a shake. "No dying, okay. Don't die." She hunched over and rested her head on his arm. "Wake up. Come on."

"I am awake," he whispered.

She opened her eyes and sat up again, pretending she didn't feel the pain in her knees from kneeling on the bare ground in a short dress.

Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Thank you... Rachel."

"Are you epileptic?"

"No... No..."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I am fine."

She shook her head. "You're not fine."

"Are you going to run away again?"

"_No!_"

"Why?"

"Ah, I dunno... Shouldn't you be happy?"

"I do not want to do this either, but it is required."

"Stop saying that."

"It is... my mission."

"I think you need to find a new job," she growled, apparently feeling better. The shock was wearing off and now she was just angry.

"It it not a job. It is my purpose. You might say, my calling."

"I might say, I'm going to be sick!"

"I do not understand," he said, sitting up finally. "Are you ill?" If that was true, it could cause major complications for the plan.

"Sickened!" she corrected him. "I'm not ill. Just sickened. You don't have to go along with what those crazy people are telling you to do if you don't want to. I don't care who they are! I don't care if you're part of some freakin' cult! It's rubbish!"

"I am trying to save my people from dying. We have foreseen this. Will you help me, Rachel?"

She stared at him blankly. "Excuse me? Did you just say 'my people'? Oh fuck! Don't tell me they told you you were from another world?"

"No."

She laughed. "They did, didn't they?"

"No."

"You're embarrassed now. You're lying."

"No."

"Help how? By..." she placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat; it was strangely calm, all of a sudden, "me and you, you know?"

"No."

"No what?"

"I do not know what you mean by 'you know'."

"You're kidding me. You're not really an alien! It's rubbish! They lied to you!"

"Did I say that I was?"

"What? Oh shut up! So now you're not. Well that's rubbish."

"I don't understand. It is simple to understand. You do not need to confuse yourself a dozen times over. It's simple, Rachel. We must have a child."

She choked. "And it gets worse!"

"You have changed your mind?" he asked.

"John, or whoever, you're mentally ill. You need _help_. I don't want to 'get down' with you, and I don't want to have a baby with you. Gimme your phone. I can call someone."

His eyes widened in alarm. "You said you would help. Please, Rachel, you must! I don't... I don't want to go through that again. I don't want to hurt you!"

"What are you talking about?"

He took her hand. "They will know and they will insist and you _will_ get hurt. Rachel, it's simple. You don't need to go through this pain!"

"I don't believe you."

"Shall I shoot you?"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I can temporarily knock you unconscious."

"With your fancy alien stun gun?"

"For lack of a better word, yes. More or less. With my fancy alien stun gun."

She laughed.

"What is it that you find so amusing, Rachel. This is a serious matter."

"Made you say it." She imitated the way he talked, very, very badly: "Fancy alien stun gun!"

"I will never quite understand your kind."

"Yeah, but you're not an alien..." she laughed.

"No. I live here, on Earth. I am not an alien. I am... an Earthling. I did not say I was human."

"Ppp!" She scrunched up her nose. "You do know humans can only have babies with other humans."

"So they say."

"...So that was kinda spooky." When she saw he wasn't following her meaning, she muttered, "Weird!" She clicked her fingers. "Okay, I'll go with the whole non-human thing. Let me see your gun. I want proof. Show me the fancy alien stun gun."

"It will not work for you," he replied.

"Oh yeah, because I was so looking forward to stunning you and having my evil way with you!"

He shook his head, confused.

"Forget it."

"My name is September."

"So?" She shook her head, messy blonde hair drifting about with the movement.

"I thought you would... like to know."

"Why can't I see the gun?"

Sighing, he took out his gun and handed it to her.

She frowned and peered down at it, turning it over in her hands slowly. "It just looks like a normal gun."

"I know."

She laughed sarcastically, and gave it back. "So I'm just supposed to take your word for it, _September_? That's not a very alien/non-human – whatever – name."

"No."

She tugged on his shirt collar. "Grow some hair so I can _rip_ on it!"

"I believe that would be painful," he replied.

"Yeah, kinda the point, you know." She smiled for a moment. "What if we do hook up?" She made jazz hands.

"What... what?" He imitated her hand movements. "Why, with the hands?"

"Make a baby! What, then... I just go off and wait for Baby to pop out and then just... hand my baby over to some serious nut jobs?"

"I do not know."

"Right. Need to know only. Cute. Doesn't that just annoy you, September?"

"No."

"Non-human!" she scowled.

"That is correct."

"I was insulting you!" she half-shouted. "Take it like an insult!"

"I... refuse."

"Stupid! Now I don't want to have a baby with you. It might end up kooky too. My poor baby."

"You like to use these words, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. I do! I do it on purpose to mess with your head, September." She nodded, glaring at him through narrowed eyes, but smiling.

"It appears to be working."

She snorted. "So, non-human, what do you know about human reproduction?"

"I have observed humans extensively. I know a lot about a lot of things when it comes to the human species."

She trailed a hand down his arm and he looked at her strangely, narrowing his eyes when he saw her narrow hers. She laughed. "You know nothing, do you?"

"I refuse to admit to such a thing."

She laughed again.

"That was not an admission!"

"Mmm-mm." She shook her head, trying hard not to break out in laughter. Absolutely not!

"Will you cooperate or not?" he asked, reaching for his gun, just in case.

She smacked his hand away from it, poking her tongue out at him. "Fine! I said I would, didn't I?"

He sighed. Admittedly, it would have been easier if she were not the only one out here. He'd have been able to glean something from someone, but with her, he got absolutely nothing. It wasn't just mystifying, it was downright annoying. Even if he had "loved" her, he was not like her, he didn't work the same way. Even if he had, he probably wouldn't have felt the slightest urge to "get down" with her, as she'd said.

She plopped down on the ground and started brushing down her knees, sighing with relief. When she'd finished with that, she looked up at him. "I'm running late for a meeting. What are we doing now?"

"This does not seem like the place for human reproduction."

She blew out a breath, stirring a few strands of hair, and glanced around airily. "Oh, I don't know! It looks fine to me. Sort of... back to basics, don't you think?"

"I was thinking, sort of... painful."

"Baby!" she muttered, shifting closer and touching his face. "Look at me, please."

"I have been looking at you... far too long than is pleasing, I must say."

"You and your jokes!" she laughed falsely. "Just – eyes, on mine!"

He looked at her eyes, but when she leant closer he leant backwards.

"Why are you backing away from me?"

"Why are you coming at me like that?"

She coughed. "Uh-huh!" She put a hand to her head and shook it. "I was going to kiss you."

"It is not necessary."

"No," she muttered. "I just thought it would be nice."

"Nice?"

"Yeah, you know, nice!" she scowled.

He sat straight again. "As you wish, Rachel."

"I _don__'__t_ wish," she laughed darkly, "but I guess that's unnecessary too." Catching his eye, she growled, "Don't even reply to that! And don't say 'no'!"

Seeing as she didn't want him to do anything, he didn't.

She started to lean forward, she was so close he could count each of her eyelashes, but at the last second she pulled a face and sat back, scowling. "Look," she told him, "you're right. I'm over that idea. Let's just... do it!" She flicked a finger at her leg, annoyed about something, and looked up suddenly, scrambling over and grabbing his face in her hands. "How do you know you can?" she asked suddenly, with wide eyes.

"It must be possible."

"Why?"

"As your kind would say, otherwise, this has been a colossal waste of my time!"

"You're mad at me!"

"You're looming over me!"

"You keep staring at me with those eyes!"

"I'm not the only one with eyes."

She glared. "You don't even blink!"

"I don't feel like blinking. It's not necessary. It is a waste of energy."

She crossed her arms, nodding with this unimpressed look on her face. "If you think blinking's a waste of energy, try making a baby and see how energy-intensive that is!"

He frowned suddenly, figuring she'd appreciate the visual clue. "Why is it? It's natural."

"So is blinking!"

She was right, he thought. He was just contemplating that further when she suddenly got up in his face and pressed her lips to his. He froze. She was kissing him, he decided. She had said a moment ago that she'd given up that idea, but obviously she'd changed her mind again. What was he supposed to do now?

She pulled away from him and made her hand into a fist and smacked him on the chest, but not very hard. "You can't even _start_ to make babies if you're not in the mood!" she told him heatedly. "Don't you know _anything_?"

"Why? Why should you need to be 'in the mood'? It is necessary for the continuation of the species. Like eating when you feel hungry."

She snapped her fingers. "You just said it, didn't you? When you _feel_something!"

"The feeling of hunger is merely the body's cue to you to provide it with sustenance. You do not have to feel hungry to know it is important that you eat. At times, you do not feel hungry, but you still must eat."

"Well guess what, genius? It doesn't work like that when you want to make babies. You have to feel it. And I am _not_ going to tell you why! Ask yourself that question, not me!"

He dropped his shoulders. "Shall I just let the others handle it?"

"Oh God, that's gross! If I were you, I wouldn't want someone else telling my body what to feel! It's just disgusting, September!"

"Is it?"

"You are so _difficult_!" she growled. "Okay, I'm going to tell you something about humans. They like kissing. It makes them feel good. Guys, like kissing! It's exciting." She smacked a hand to her head and moaned. "Why do I feel like I'm in a bad porno flick?"

He frowned but she wasn't looking at him, so he supposed she'd probably been asking herself that question, not him. "Rachel."

She moaned and opened her eyes. "What?"

"I think I understand. Pleasurable physical intimacy sets the prelude for sexual intercourse."

She moaned. "Please don't call it that again. It just kills the mood."

"Why?"

"Let me think: high school, Sex Ed class, pain, pain, pain!"

He looked disturbed.

"It was embarrassing, September!" she told him. "Painfully embarrassing. You know, like, um, the first time you admit to someone you like them, or might like them, and you're just standing there, literally dying of shame, waiting for them to say something and end your misery."

He tried to see it from her point of view, but he still didn't understand why admitting to someone you had feelings for them could be painful or embarrassing.

"Look, I'll make it easy for you. You don't really want to do this thing with me but you have to. It's your mission. Isn't that painful?"

"No."

"No?" She shook her head, as though waiting for him to tell her he'd thought about it some more and changed his mind.

"I hope it will not be painful. The idea that it would be seems to me... unhelpful..."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "It's not supposed to be painful. It's supposed to be enjoyable. Sex isn't just about making babies. For humans, anyway. It's about feeling good and making someone else feel good. And if you love someone in a certain way, it's a really nice way that you can connect with them and let them know that, by making them feel good... and loved. I can't put it into words; you have to feel it." She frowned, peering at him. "Aren't you in the least bit curious? Where's your sense of adventure, hey?"

"I could try that," he agreed. "If it will help, it is, as your kind say, worth a shot."

"Okay."

"Okay, Rachel."

He didn't think it would be a good idea to tell her he had felt what she'd been talking about, and it still didn't make any more sense to him. She might have been right. That you had to feel it yourself to really understand. If that was the case, he hoped Rachel was really good at kissing. He wasn't sure he'd be very good at the feeling good part. He would just have to see what happened.

.

She stood up, reaching out her hands to pull him to his feet. "Okay. Look at me. What do you think? Do you like looking at me? Does it make you feel good?"

He stared at her.

"No. Not just my eyes. All of me." She gestured a hand from her chest down to her hips, inviting him to take a look.

He looked her up and down. "I don't think so."

"You weren't even _trying_, September!" she complained. "You said you've spent time watching humans. You've seen how important the visual aspect is to them, how it ties in with their other senses, with their physical reactions and emotions. If you see a child crying, how does that make you feel?"

"Children cry. It is normal. People cry."

"Because they're _feeling_ something, September."

"Yes." He knew that. He remembered August telling him how he loved Christine, how he'd cried.

"Just for a moment, try to imagine what it's like to be human, like me. I'm not insulting you, sweetie. I do believe you have feelings, but they tie into things a little differently than mine do. So let's just pretend you're like me and take another look. If you saw me on the street, would you think maybe it would be nice if we could stop and have a chat, maybe get to know each other a bit better?"

"On the street?"

"It doesn't have to be on the street, it can be anywhere?"

He looked her over again.

"Do you like this dress on me?" she asked. "Does it do me justice? Does it bring out my nicest features and convey them over to you? Does it make me look nice?"

She sighed. "September," she prodded a finger at her chest, "feel, don't think." She tried on a smile, hoping it might help.

He stared at her worriedly, breathing heavily. "It's not working, Rachel!"

She waved a hand at him. "Don't worry about it. It's okay. Just relax." She really didn't need him hyperventilating on her now.

"It should be working!"

"No. No! You're not like me, remember. All we can do is try. It's not... You're not... wrong, okay. Sometimes, it just happens that way. Come over here. Yeah. Do you want to touch me?"

"No."

"Do you think you could, anyway?"

He stroked her hair gently, remembering how many times he'd seen that done before. It seemed like a good place to start. Women seemed to like having their hair stroked.

"Okay, good. Do you like that?"

"No."

"Oh dear!" She consulted her watch. "I don't know, September, maybe it's just not meant to be."

"That would be unfortunate, Rachel."

"Yeah, you're telling me. No kidding. It's messed up." She smiled, lowering her eyes for a moment. "Okay. What about if I tell _you_ something?" She waited a couple of seconds, for him to say something. When he didn't, she just decided to say her piece anyway. "I like your jeans. I think they make you look good. Very touchable." She laughed silently, her eyes happy and crinkled at the corners. So that was slightly embarrassing, but maybe it would be worth it.

"I thought you might like them," he agreed.

"I do!" She grinned, placing a hand on his arm. "See, you get it!"

"But I do no... feel it."

Her smile disappeared. "Which is our big problem, I know. Let's go back to the car. Maybe this isn't the right place, after all. It doesn't set the atmosphere for what we're going for. Do you think we could maybe try that? We could... find a motel."

"Yes. I'm beginning to understand. You associate the bedroom, and therefore the bed, with..." He remembered how she'd asked him not to say those words, so he didn't.

She nodded. "For a lot of people, it sets the right atmosphere. Somewhere private, but relaxed. They don't have to worry about anything stressing them; they're free to enjoy their partner's company."

They walked back to the car and September picked a piece of broken twig out of her hair.

"Thank you."

.

"Do you like music? Music is a powerful mood setter, for a lot of people. They tie a whole heap of emotions to just one song, and even years later, hearing that same song again can bring it all rushing back."

He shook his head.

"That's okay," she said. "What makes you happy? What do you like?"

"My preference is to successfully complete my mission."

"It's kinda like that with me, too. I like doing my job well, not just half-heartedly. But apart from your missions, is there anything else you like?"

"No."

She smiled, her eyes softening. "Do you like seeing someone smile?"

"No."

"Wow! I honestly couldn't imagine being you, September. I'd die. I'm telling you. I would just die. I couldn't take it. But that's okay. It's okay, because that's how your kind are. They're not like me. We'll figure this thing out." She played with the bracelet on her left hand, touching the beads.

"Do you like that bracelet?" he asked.

"I love my bracelet," she answered seriously. "My daughter gave me this bracelet. She made it for me. I adore it. It reminds me of her and how much I love her and how special she is!"

"What is her name?" he asked.

Rachel smiled. "Ella."

He looked at her suddenly. "Olivia Dunham has a sister named Rachel and a niece named Ella," he said.

"Olivia's my sister." She frowned, tilting her head to the side. "Do you know her?"

"Yes."

"Yeah? That's pretty cool. Does she know you're not human?"

"I am unsure."

"Okay." Rachel nodded. "I won't tell," she wrinkled her nose and smiled at him, "promise."

He went back to watching the road.

"Livvy's looking after Ella tonight because my meeting was so far out of the way," she told him. "I promised I'd ring, though, and let them know how things were. That's okay, isn't it? I can still ring them?"

"Of course."

.

Rachel sat down at the end of bed and sighed, flopping back onto the mattress. She smiled up at the ceiling. "I need this at home. It's so nice! Let's kidnap it, okay?" She laughed. "I'm kidding. That would be wrong." She sat up again, watching him close the door and walk over. "Hmm." She patted the mattress beside her.

He sat down next to her.

"So what's going on with you guys? Why are you going to die if Rachel and September don't make babies?"

"Classified."

"In other words, nobody's told you."

"You are right."

"I hate when that happens." She rested a hand on his leg. "Yeah, this is probably gonna sound totally wrong, but you haven't happened to just... accidentally end up in any motel rooms with any people having some very special alone time together?"

"No."

"Bummer."

"Rachel, I believe that would be inappropriate," he put forth.

"Watched any porn?"

"I do not believe so."

"Argh! Don't look now, I'm going to do something very bad." She grinned and pushed him back on the bed, settling herself on top of him.

"You have long hair," he said. It was just something he'd noticed, now that she was looming over him and it was hanging down brushing against his shoulders and the side of his face. She must have taken very good care of it because, before they'd gone running through the forest and taken a spill to the ground, it had been very straight and very shiny.

She frowned and sat up, starting to pull it back with her hands, but he touched her arm, drawing her gaze back down to his face.

"You don't have to put it away," he told her.

"You don't mind?"

"No."

She let it fall out of her hands and flop back down about her face. He stroked some of it. It was very smooth. He frowned. "It smells like..." He couldn't quite find the word.

"That's my shampoo. It's supposed to smell like coconut and something else that's really good for your hair." She smiled. "Yeah, I know, it doesn't really, but I'm used to it. When I'm at my sister's, I use her shampoo. You should see the looks that gets me! She's very protective of her shampoo." She laughed. "Yeah, nah, she doesn't really mind. She's cool with it. I like her shampoo better but I have _no_ idea where she gets it, and I'm just too proud to ask. No!"

She smiled. "Comfy? You're not allergic to coconut, are you? Or... artificial coconut?"

"All good."

The coconut thing made her think of pina coladas. "Bad Rachel! Thinking about alcoholic beverages when you're on the job! Desist at once!" She smiled at him. "Sorry, Rachel zoned out for a moment. She's back now. Heya!"

She had a thought and started to back away, off the bed. "Ooo, do you know what role-playing is? We could role-play that we knew each other really well and were ridiculously in love and we only have a few hours to spend together." She shrugged. "It could work, right?"

He sat up. "We could try."

"Yeah? Okay, let's add a couple more details. So, I'll be Mimi and you're John. We're both human, obviously, and... we're engaged. Let's be lawyers, okay, because... I think lawyers are really professional and frowney. They make me laugh, imagining them just being normal people at home. In a good way, in a good way. Um, yeah, and here we are, in our motel room – very naughty – Mom and Dad are visiting from Oregon so we can't go back to my place. That would be awkward overload. Uck! Nooo! And I can't stand your apartment. It's too clean. I just step through the door and I wanna mess stuff up, give it a bit of character and lived-in-ness. Which you don't like, and seeing as I like you, I don't like making you sad. Any thoughts?"

"Is your house messy?"

She shook her head. "Nope. You're so adorable and loveable and you care about me _so_ much, that you make sure it's all sparkly and clean whenever my parents come visiting so they don't shake their heads and wonder if maybe the hospital had a baby-swapping mishap when I was born and they took the wrong baby home. Oops!"

"I see."

She pointed to the bathroom. "I am going to the bathroom, but I will be back!" She winked at him and hopped off the bed, walking the short distance to the bathroom and slipping inside, closing the door after her.

She sighed and stopped in front of the mirror, taking in her dishevelled appearance and the dirt and makeup smudge marks on her face. A total turn on, she was sure. She turned on the tap and splashed water onto her face. She wasn't at all sure she believed this guy's story, but he sure seemed to believe it, and that was sad. She supposed she should have been calling someone for him, but she was having a crazy moment. It wasn't that she particularly wanted to get it on with him, she just felt like helping him out. Nuts! How could it not be? He wanted them to have some half-human baby together. It could only ever be nuts! But she just couldn't help thinking that if they locked him away someplace like poor Walter when he'd been in the mental institute, what kind of human interaction would he get there? Let alone of the female kind.

Maybe she _could_ help him. She'd already missed her meeting and royally screwed that up. How more screwed up could it get? There was nothing she could do about it anymore, but she could do something worthwhile with her time, whilst she was out and about. Heck, maybe she'd even have a little fun of her own. She knew it wouldn't be solving any problems, but she already felt shitty enough that she hardly cared at all.

Turning the tap off, she reached for a hand towel to dry her face and straightened up, looking at herself in the mirror. At least she didn't look so much like she'd just crawled out of a drainpipe now. That had to be a plus, right? She ran her fingers through her hair to unmangle it a bit and dropped her eyes to her stomach.

She knew she'd have to take her dress off at some point, but then he'd see her scar and it would freak him out. If he hadn't believed she had a child before, he'd sure believe it then. Not that there was anything she could do about it. She didn't hate it herself, she just didn't like other people seeing it.

Shaking her head at her silliness, she pushed the straps off her shoulders and wriggled out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor. He lingerie was a bit too girly, it was plain, not silky or lacy, and sported a flower pattern. It was _not_ sexy. It was the opposite of sexy. But it would have to do.

Turning away from the mirror, she walked back to the bathroom door and prepared herself to step out, fixing a big smile to her face.

.

September glared at his communicator. What did they expect? Of course it wasn't going to happen in two seconds! He couldn't just pretend he was some random human, like the shape shifters seemed to be able to do with ease. He wasn't! He _had_ a life, he didn't need to take on anyone else's to complete his mission. Except for today, he supposed. Today, he would have to be human.

Moving to the side of the bed, he opened a drawer and put his communicator and his gun in there, then shut it again. He couldn't very well be stunning Olivia Dunham's sister now, could he? She'd get most upset and upset was when she did her best work, and kicked people's asses best, too. On top of everything else, he didn't need his ass kicked today. It was already starting to feel a lot like that, anyway.

He sat back down on the bed and waited for Rachel to come back out of the bathroom. He had no idea when that would be because he couldn't read her, he just hoped it was soon. December was starting to lose patience with his incompetence.

.

Rachel opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the room, frowning. "Actually, John's kind of ick. John was Livvy's partner's name, and they were having a secret love affair, then he died. Far too tragic! We should call you – mmm? – what do you think about Christopher? Or... or Winnie?" She grinned. "Sorry. I'm a freak, I like Winnie better than Christopher. Let's go with Winnie. For a lawyer? It's perfect! "Hey, I'm Winnie, an' I'm gonna win you your case – 'cause I'm good! No, sir, I don't believe I'm that Winnie from Workaholics Anonymous. You must be thinking of another Winnie.'" She stopped at the end of the bed and laughed, but it faded away quickly and she sighed.

His eyes had left her face and were fixed on her body at one particular spot. "You saw that, huh?" she said sort of sadly, tracing a finger over her scar.

"Hey!" He got up off the bed and walked around to where she was standing, pulling her into his arms. "It's okay, Mimi. I've seen it a thousand times before and it's just another part of you that I _love_."

She smiled sadly and rested her head on his shoulder. "I missed you," she whispered.

"Yeah, I have to say, it was kind of like that for me too. But guess what?"

"What?" She lifted her head up and stood back a little to look into his eyes.

He shot her a wink. "I'm here now."

She laughed. "Are you making eyes at me?"

"Nooo. No. Of course not. Unless, of course, you _want_ me to?"

"Get outta town!"

"Oh, oh. Really?" He started to step away from her, but she grabbed the front of his clothes to haul him back over.

"Winnie, I hate you!" she told him morosely.

"Is this true?"

"Yes, it is."

"That's real sad to hear."

"So sad." She leant over to whisper in his ear, "We could, maybe, work on it?"

"Oh boy. That is a tempting offer. I'm going to have to give it some serious attention."

She looked at him with hopeful eyes. "Hmm?"

"Serious, serious attention." He nodded. "Mimi, I'm gonna be working late. You fancy lending me a hand?"

She smoothed her hands up over his chest slowly, looking deep into his eyes. "I can lend you two hands."

"That's my girl!" he whispered, leaning closer at the same time she did and pressing his lips to hers. A strange shiver ran down his back and he suddenly noticed the way Rachel was pressed up against him, all soft and warm and real. That was when he realised he could get used to holding her in his arms, he could get used to that little shiver that was both thrilling and frightening, hot and cold. It felt like Rachel, trying to tell him something with just her body. She didn't have any words and he wasn't empathic, he was just a person, and she had this very special message just for him.

His heart beat faster and he pulled her closer to him. Was he going to take her message? Oh yeah! (Winnie definitely would have.)

.

Nina woke with a start, frowning at the wall not very far away. She didn't know where she was though it looked like a trailer of some sort. It was dark, but it was definitely a trailer. The problem was, she didn't remember owning a trailer.

The second thing she noticed, when a car drove past and its lights glanced by the window, shining brightly in her eyes and making her blink profusely, was that she wasn't wearing anything, and someone had their arms around her.

'What have you done now, Nina?' she wanted to ask herself. 'And _who_ have you done it with?' She carefully lifted the arm from around her enough to sit up and covered her mouth with a hand. This was bad! She was a dead woman!

Her memory was hazy at best, but seeing Sam seemed to bring some of it back. She remembered accusing him of breaking into her car, remembered making off with his M&Ms a week ago – was it a week ago? – remembered turning a small black button over in her fingers watching it catch the light, and she remembered that she'd forgotten to lock her car. Damn! For the life of her, she couldn't remember any more, and she just didn't understand why that was.

"Sam?" She watched his face, but he didn't seem to hear her and went on sleeping peacefully. She raised her voice a little above a whisper, concious of how loud it sounded to her own ears and how dark the window she could see from the bed was, and tried again: "Sam!"

He mumbled something in what she had a pretty good idea was Portuguese, but she was also pretty sure she didn't speak Portuguese, so whatever he'd said went right over her head.

"Sam!"

She pressed a hand to his cheek, trying not to smile when she recognised a Portuguese rendition of "darling". None of this was in the least bit amusing or adorable. If she'd had her phone, she would have rang Walter immediately – she didn't care what time it was – and ran her symptoms by him. Maybe he'd know of some kind of drug capable of... of... she didn't know what and memory loss! "Sam, wake up!"

He opened his eyes slowly, frowning against the dimness of the trailer and reached out a hand in the direction of the noise he'd heard, freezing when his hand landed on something warm and obviously alive.

Nina ignored the fact that his hand was on her leg and said, in a low voice, "It's me, Nina. Do you know where we are, because I'm lost! It's a trailer of some sort, I guess."

Sam closed his eyes and picked his hand up off her leg and rested it over his eyes. "I know exactly where we are," he whispered.

"Great! At least that makes one of us," she sighed heavily, slipping out of bed and frowning down at the shaggy carpet she was standing on. She didn't like shaggy carpet. She had hoped to find something to wear, but the trailer was so dark she could hardly see much at all. She couldn't even make out her feet properly.

A light clicked on suddenly and she startled her.

"Here!"

She turned and frowned at the shirt Sam was holding out to her but decided it didn't really matter what she wore, just as long as she wore _something_! Turning away to pull it on quickly, she asked, "Where are we?"

He pressed a hand to his head. "Ah, this is where I live."

Her eyes widened and she tried very hard to resist the urge to look around but it didn't work. She didn't gawp or anything, but she did notice a whole lot of books and that damn shaggy carpet. It was brownish-beige and apparently received fairly regular vacuuming. She spotted her underwear not far away and bent down to pick them up, along with her bra. She couldn't see the rest of her stuff anywhere nearby, but that didn't mean it wasn't here somewhere. She didn't imagine she'd arrived here in nothing but her bra and panties. That would have been extreme, even for her. Memorable, probably – she'd never live it down for as long as she lived – but much too much.

Sam turned away to reach for something and she took the opportunity to slip back into her panties, hoping he didn't have pervy neighbours because the curtain closest to her wasn't exactly drawn. She quickly leant over to shut it and when she looked around she noticed that Sam had disappeared off to somewhere. The sound of a closet door closing told her he was probably over there, with the closet, and she stayed where she was. As pervy as Sam's neighbours may or may not have been, she wasn't pervy herself. At least, she had the decency not to perv when she thought people might catch her in the act, as far as that could be called "decency".

There was a thumping sound and she spun around, only just noticing how many books were piled up on top of the closet Sam was standing in front of. She frowned and Sam backed away quickly before a bunch of books fell off the top of the closet onto him. "Why are you trying to kill me?" he asked them, gingerly bending down to pick a few back up and peering up at the others dubiously.

"Sam?" Nina took a step towards him, glad that he was dressed and she wouldn't have the temptation to stare at anything she probably shouldn't have been staring at, like a handsome, naked man she just happened to like stealing candy off and denying it black and blue just to see the very adorable grumpy look on his face. She stopped dead, deciding it was probably best if she didn't get any closer. She might have the sudden, insatiable urge to leap on him and do something she really, really shouldn't.

Moving away from the closet towards her, Sam dropped the half dozen books he was trying to hold onto and winced. "Yeah, Nina?"

"How did I get here?" she asked.

He backed up and frowned at one of the windows. "That looks like your car out there. I'd say you drove."

She hurried to the window he was pointing at and peered out at the car parked close by. It was definitely her car. It was deep black and splendidly gleaming in the light of a nearby lamp. Turning away from the window, she frowned. "I'm sorry, but I just don't understand why I'd come here, of all places." She shot a sidelong glance in the direction of the bed. "Or why I woke up in your bed minus my clothes."

"Ah, yeah, that is pretty strange," Sam agreed, picking up the books he'd just dropped on his feet and setting them down on top of an overturned, old wooden crate.

"You have absolutely no idea how that could have happened?" she questioned.

"I have plenty of ideas, but I'm not so sure which is the right one."

"When you've chosen one that doesn't involve kidnapping and illicit drugs, get back to me. I want to hear your thoughts. In the interim, I think I'm going to find my clothes before they get lost in amongst the rubble you affectionately like to call your residence."

Sam stared at her for a long moment then, when she'd walked off, went back to rescuing his books.

.

She came back a couple of minutes later, her coat folded over her arm, and frowned at the pile of neatly folded clothes Sam was holding out to her.

"What did you think I'd call it?" he asked humorously. "'Sexy'?"

She just stood there, staring at him.

"It... it doesn't travel in time and space, it's just a regular, old trailer, so that would be kind of... anticlimactic..."

"You are strange, Sam Weiss," she told him, snatching her clothes out of his hands and stalking away.

"Try that one," he said, pointing to one of the doors.

She stomped over and pulled open the door, closing it after her resolutely and feeling along the wall for the light switch. The little sliver of light coming from under the door made her feel lonely for a moment in the dark.

When she finally got the light on, she looked around to make sure the nobody would be looking in through the window, and got dressed. It wasn't as though she was going to stay here. She had no idea how long she'd been here already, but however long it was, it was already too long.

.

When she was dressed once more, and looking much more like the _real_ Nina Sharp, she stepped out of the little room and headed for the kitchenette. She spied her car keys waiting for her on the table beside a cup of herbal tea she didn't really want to know the name of, and walked over there swiftly and snatched them up.

"Oh, hey!" Sam said, turning away from the fridge and closing the door. "Tea?"

"I'm leaving, and then, after I've left, I'm going home. I don't want tea, I just want to go home."

"Okay."

"Goodbye," she said, sidestepping the table quickly and making for the door as though Sam might try to stop her.

He didn't.

Yanking open the door, she stepped out into the cold and dark and closed the door after her quickly, taking a deep breath of bitterly cold air and allowing herself a moment of gladness to finally be out of the claustrophobic, overflowing-with-books, abhorrent shaggy carpet-infested depths of the trailer from Hell, Not-Sexy. She wasn't quite sure she trusted Sam anymore.

Stepping away from the trailer shakily, she had the irrational urge to drop by Olivia's apartment and ask her if anything funny had happened to her the last time she'd spoken with Sam, but that seemed a bit like going overboard, so she decided she'd just go home instead and sleep through what little of the night was left. Hopefully, by morning, she'd have her memories back and she'd know if she intended on coming back here with a lighter and a can of gasoline and burning Sam's trailer to the ground.

She knew how she sounded right now, but she didn't feel at all normal and she was actually quite scared. She didn't think it was safe to be driving in her current state, but there was no way in Hell she was staying here! She had to get away.

She grabbed the car door, surprised and annoyed to find that she'd been right – she'd forgotten to lock her car – and clambered inside, pulling the door shut with a snap and hitting the central locking. Staring out the windshield, she took a couple of deep breaths, trying to steady herself and find some sort of balance within herself before driving off. She half expected Sam to come out and try to stop her leaving, but he stayed inside.

Finally, she started the car and drove off, only just noticing that what she was driving through was a trailer park. She used the car's satellite navigation to find her way home and pulled up in her drive, still a little shaky and wanting nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep, though, that wasn't what she did. Before she went to sleep, she walked to the bathroom and took a long shower, then she walked back to her bedroom and lay down. She didn't get much sleep, but at least it was only her in her bed and there was no shaggy carpet to wake up to in the morning.

.

Though she was practically falling asleep, and it was one of her days off, Nina decided to go into work in the morning anyway. She drank a cup of strong coffee, grabbed her keys, dumped the flowers sitting on her back seat into a neighbours green bin, and went for a drive.

She hadn't taken more than two steps into the foyer when Olivia came rushing over, concern reflected in her unusually wide eyes, and enveloped her in a hug. Peter was with her, but hung back, and Nina caught his eyes but he wasn't giving anything away. If it had been unusual for Olivia to leap on people and throw her arms around them, he'd missed that memo.

Nina didn't need to be told, however, to know how unlike her it was.

"I tried calling, but nobody picked up."

Nina's eyes shifted from Olivia's pale, worried face to the calender across the room and she felt dread slam into her like a freight train. She'd forgotten a whole _day_! "It's alright, my dear," she heard herself calmly say. "As you can see, I'm quite fine." Her hand reached into her pocket for her cell phone – she'd found it in her car whilst she'd been driving in to work and had slipped it into her coat. "I switched it off and forgot to turn it back on, that's all," she said.

She wasn't sure if Olivia believed her or not, but she walked up to the front desk as asked to borrow a pen and some paper and scribbled down her home number, turning and handing it to Olivia. It would make Olivia feel better, even if she never used it.

.

Ella came running to the door and threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly. "I missed you, Mommy!"

"I missed you too, baby," Rachel told her, smiling at her and placing a hand on her hair, just letting her daughter cling to her for a little while.

She felt a little guilty, now, for so easily letting her chances with the new publishers slip by, but maybe she could ring them tomorrow morning and try to talk them 'round. She didn't think so – they'd been seeing a couple of other illustrators/authors apart from her – but she had to at least try something.

But, more than that, she felt guilty for being off with some guy whilst her daughter had been at home hoping she did well with her meeting, and now she couldn't even tell Ella it had fallen through.

Then she started feeling guilty for making out like it was September's fault she was feeling this shitty, when really, didn't they always say mad people weren't accountable for their actions?

She really should have called someone for him, but when she'd woken up in the morning, he hadn't been around anymore, and she'd decided just to slink off back to her car and go home. She wasn't brave like Livvy; she didn't go looking for the truth and stick it out through thick and thin until she found what she'd been looking for. She made up fanciful happy endings, instead.

"Hey, La! You know Mommy loves you very much, don't you, baby girl?"

Ella nodded. "I know, Mommy. I love you too."

"Yeah." Rachel looked down into her daughter's face, smiling at her. "You do."

They walked into the kitchen together and got stuck into making sandwiches for afternoon tea. Only then did Rachel remember hearing someone in the bathroom in the middle of the night, throwing up. She supposed it had been September and wondered why he'd been sick. Was he actually on pills for his condition but he'd gone off them because they messed with his body chemistry, and then he'd gotten sick? Whatever the reason, she hoped he felt better soon.

She knew he was mad and he'd run off on her, but she didn't like being too hard on people: it made her feel like a bad person.

.

Nina turned around on her stool when she heard someone knocking on the glass at the back of the house and left the kitchen, going to get the door in the living room. The living room looked out onto the backyard and a cherry-coloured hardwood patio through large double-glazed floor to ceiling windows so it wasn't hard for her to see who it was. Frowning silently, she unlocked the door and pulled it open. "You look ill," she said, gesturing to a sofa nearby. "I'll bring you a glass of water."

When she returned, she saw September had made it over to the sofa and set his glass of water down on the coffee table, taking a seat next to him and reached over to touch his forehead. "You have a fever, dear. That's not like you." She picked up the glass of water and offered it to him. "I have to go check on my pizza," she told him, "but I'm not running away. I'll be back. Drink that, please. It'll do you some good."

Returning to the kitchen, she sighed heavily and walked over to the fridge, looking to see if she had anything September might consider remotely edible. She didn't really; that annoyed her. She would have to go to the shops later.

Checking that her pizza wasn't burning, she checked her watch and headed back into the living room, sitting back down on the sofa. She held out her hand, indicating that he should pass her his. "Here." She felt for his pulse, glancing at her watch for the time. "It's not good, dear. Are you going to tell me what happened? You're very pale. What do you think, you're going to be okay?"

He whispered something she didn't catch and she leant closer. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, dear?" she asked.

"Sam," he whispered.

"Oh, I see," she replied.

"It was I... who suggested..."

"That's all I need to hear, dear. I understand. It was a trial for something more important. It makes sense. They'd want to know it was viable before they invested their resources and time. I take it it worked. What was the big occasion then? Did they tell you?"

He mumbled something in a strange language.

"I know, I know. It's uncomfortable." She frowned suddenly, reaching over to pat his hand. "I see. No need to explain, dear. I understand perfectly. What I don't understand is why it always has to be you? Surely they have others they might give a spin on their funny, little torture wheel. You can't be the only one."

He said something in that same strange language. It could only have been him.

"Is that so? Well, pardon me for not believing in them implicitly, but it seems if it's not one thing, it's another. They really are very fond of messing you up, dear, but just remember, you don't work for them, they don't speak for the universe. It speaks for itself. You must remember to be rigorous and to do your own investigating before merely taking their word for it. They may not be listening correctly, after all."

He frowned at her and muttered something.

"That was not an insult, dear. It was a statement of fact. My kind call it 'human error'. Every living thing is capable of error, dear. Even your own kind. You may not enjoy facing up to the fact, but you cannot discount the possibility. Would you like some pizza?"

He replied back disapprovingly. He wasn't very fond of her cooking, but she already knew that.

She patted his hand. "I see. I see." She picked up the empty glass from the table and walked back towards the kitchen.

She was just stepping out the door when he said something.

"Pardon?" she asked, turned back to offer him a frown. "I didn't catch that, dear? What did you say? You thought I liked Sam? Well, I do like Sam, but that's not to say I like him in that sense. I know you understand," she replied, to his comment. "You're not an idiot. I don't think that. Every living thing is unique, hmm? They're all special, including you. You're going to tell me why you're sick. I know it." She nodded. "Later, maybe. I'll drop by the shop so you won't starve to death. I know you find my cooking inedible. Humans, they have such unconscious taste!" She smiled. "Feel better, hmm?"

.

She ate a piece of pizza and mostly ended up picking at her second piece before making herself a coffee and deciding to go back to the living room to check on her guest.

"Yes, I was mean to Sam," she admitted, before he could bring it up. "I'm going to apologise. I _am_! I bought M&Ms."

He muttered something darkly.

"I know you don't like them, but Sam does, and I didn't buy them for you." She held up a hand before he could say any more. "You're not feeling well, dear. Perhaps it's best if we changed the subject. Would you like to tell me why you're sick?"

"No," he replied, in English.

"No?"

"You heard me."

"I did, but I've decided I shall persist."

"I will be okay."

"That's what they all say. Is that what August told you?"

"You will not speak of that!"

"Touchy. Hey you! You're not the only one to have friends who died. I've had a few of my own, over the years. There's no need to be so snooty." She frowned at her hands in her lap. Sighing, she stood up quickly. "I'm going to eat Sam's M&Ms."

"Are you going to the shop?" September asked.

"Aw! And with the sad voice!" She dropped the falsely sweet, sarcastic tone. "Of course I will. I have to buy Sam some new M&Ms anyway."

.

Her trip to the shops was boring. The car engine kept droning on and on, and then in the store, it was the artificial lights and the refrigeration units. She'd started to turn in circles, getting lost in a damn five aisle supermarket, if it could even be called that. She'd decided she didn't like this one and had cruised around town for forty minutes, looking for some other place that might be open. Finally, she found somewhere, but it wasn't much better than the place she'd been so snooty at.

She bought some stuff and stomped back to her car. Her mood hadn't picked up by the time she'd arrived home, she'd still been stomping. She stomped into her living room and found something reggae to put on and sat down on the carpet to listen to it, the shopping left on the kitchen counter.

She was sulky, and she didn't even know why. It was childish and annoying, but she couldn't do anything about it. She wanted to go to bed and sleep, but she didn't feel tired. She'd have gone for a run, but it was late and much too dark.

She only remembered that she had a guest when one of her favourite songs came on and she reached over and switched the stereo off, with a barely suppressed sigh. Walking over to the sofa, she stopped to ask, "Are you hungry?", and bent over to feel his forehead again. She didn't like it. "You're getting worse. What is it?"

He just told her it would pass, he'd be fine. He wasn't angry at her anymore; he'd moved on. He was too tired now, too tired to even read her. Before, he'd been irritated because she'd been irritated, and because of the sickness, but now all he wanted to do was sleep.

She walked away to get him another glass of water, wondering what to do. She couldn't just take him to a hospital, but could she just do nothing? What if he died? She'd never forgive herself, she just knew it.

Returning with a glass of water, she put it down on the coffee table and asked, "Why are you dressed like that?" It wasn't what he regularly wore, the Observer uniform, or whatnot. She supposed it was a uniform of sorts, perhaps a signal to others that they were not a threat, they were not a part of proceedings, and therefore should have been immune from harm at the hands of those who were. It made some strange kind of sense, she supposed, though it was not strictly true. They were not always silent observers, they did not only take steps to rectify their own intrusions and infringements against the natural order through these intrusions. And how could they be exempt from life when they, themselves, were alive? Once, they had been caretakers; they had once understood the great languages of the universe, heard its heartbeat clearly. Now, they merely watched, taking down notes, studying up for some big exam.

She didn't know how much September knew of his kind, but as usual, she suspected it was more than he would ever share. He liked to play the mysterious card, and he did it well. At least he made it classy, she thought, even if he could get a little boisterous, at times. He didn't like when the natural order got messed up. Of course he wouldn't. He could feel that it wasn't right, that something wasn't right.

Now, she couldn't help wondering why he was sick. Was it a sign of things to come? Was it a message from the universe, or merely something more personal? If it had been a sign of some awful future, she was sure he wouldn't have come to her. He would have wanted to keep it quiet. His kind were not supposed to interfere. He must have believed it too, she supposed. He'd told her often enough.

Was the reason he wasn't telling her what was going on with him now because it had been the others, his own kind? They did not trust him anymore? Did he suspect that they had lied to him about his purpose? As much as she wanted to believe they wouldn't do that, wouldn't harm one of their own, she knew very well the way they'd treated August. As though he'd been diseased. They could be highly insensitive, when they wanted to be.

She sat down on a stool in her kitchen, staring at her cell phone, wondering if she should call someone or not, if she should call Sam and ask him what was written in all those books he had in his trailer. They had seemed important to him, like old acquaintances. People with living, breathing friends didn't ask their books why they were trying to kill them as though it was mystifying and hurtful when they toppled over and fell on their head. They got out of the way and let them fall to the floor, and then found a bookshelf to retire them to.

Sighing, she snatched up her phone and rung Sam anyway. She didn't care if he thought she was funny, she had to talk to someone. She didn't want someone dying in her house, under her care, and she wouldn't throw a sick person out onto the street just to ease her conscience. At least, when she was at home, she would do her best to act like a decent human being. If she acted differently at work, that was at work. She already knew she was capable of anything, the very worst of humankind. She just hoped she had a little bit of the goodness of them left in her too.

Sam wasn't picking up.

She was just about to ring again when she looked over and saw September glaring at her from the doorway. Sprung! He was obviously not very happy, he had on his unhappy expression. He usually didn't bother unless he really meant it.

"You know where the guest room is," she told him, dropping her phone into her pocket and standing up. "The sofa is no place to sleep. Hustle. I'm going out."

"Where? To the shop again?"

"No. I'm going to see Sam. Go get some sleep."

He stared at the floor.

"Did you drink your water?" She sighed, walking over and stopping in front of him. "Come on, I'll walk with you there."

"Why do you have to go?"

"You'll be fine," she told him. "Remember, my house is your house. You can feel safe here. I think you need some time alone. You're not well enough to withstand my moods tonight. I won't be gone forever." She started to walk away and he followed, still staring at the floor.

"I am feeling better," he said.

"I don't think you are frankly," she replied. "How much better is better? I know you don't want me to go, but I can't stay, dear. You're only telling yourself you feel better because something else seems much worse."

"I am not human. I do not operate the way you do."

"You're not well, September. And I am human. You're catching these things off me. I really need to go and allow you some space. What do you want me to say? That I'm hanging out to go see Sam so we can start another fruitless, childish argument that'll give us adequate reason to apologise and, shit, maybe we'll get lucky along the way? I _am_ human. And I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not. I'm tired of pretending I'm this indestructible machine. I never was. Now I want someone who's going to be there for me: who'll have the gumption to set me straight when I'm wrong, and say 'good on you' when I'm right. I'm tired of it always having to be me, of only ever having myself to blame when I stuff up. I don't want to blame anyone else, I just want someone around. I like Sam. You were right. Maybe that's not such a bad thing." She pushed open the guest room door and flipped on the light. "I'll get the light for you. Good night, dear."

"Drive carefully," he said quietly. He didn't want to say "good night", as though the word was somehow not a good word, but rather an ominous one.

"I'll do my best." She waited for him to lie down and turned out the light, jarring the door on her way out and walked back to her bedroom to fetch her scarf. It was hanging over the hat rack with her small but pricey collection of hats and a necklace she'd been given but never worn. In contrast to her usual attire, it was a gorgeous rich burnt umber.

She was passing through the kitchen, all set to go out, when she remembered the glass of water she'd left September in the living room. She took the empty glass back to the sink and went to get a clean glass and fill it under the tap, walking back through the house to the guest room and leaving the glass on the stand beside the bed. "In case you get thirsty," she told him, and he reached over to touch her scarf. She only had one scarf but she didn't seem to mind. If she'd had a dozen scarves, it still would have been her favourite. September seemed to like it, too. She didn't know why but it didn't worry her.

"Good night, Nina," he told her quietly.

"Sleep tight, darling." She glanced at the window to make sure it was closed before turning and walking out.

.

"I tried calling, but you weren't picking up," she explained, to his frown, standing in the doorway to his trailer probably letting bugs in. There had to be some that were out and about, even in this cold weather.

I am, she thought. I'm sort of like a bug. Run by strange motivations that didn't always respect other people and damn hard to kill.

"I never gave you my new number, Nina."

She shrugged one shoulder innocently. "Oh, well, then perhaps I read your mind."

He frowned at her with mistrust clearly written in his eyes, but didn't move away from the door so she could come inside and they could talk some more.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I was horrible to you yesterday. I didn't know if I could trust you and now I guess you're thinking the same thing."

"I don't run that company," he replied frostily.

"No, that would be me. Me and my evil, little company. You see something missing from this picture? I came alone, sans aforementioned insidiously sinister company. Highly suspicious. Hmm. I guess that's because I came as myself, just one person to another, not that crazy chick who runs that crazy company who's always getting itself in hot water with our favourite fringe team. Are you going to let me in or what? Because I could always go back to my car and dig up some reverse-engineered alien tech to beam myself inside. No? Not a funny joke?" She sighed. "I'm still working on it. I haven't given up."

She reached for his hand which was holding the door open but he drew it back quickly, stepping back from the door. "Come in, then," he scowled. "But don't... touch anything!"

"Fine by me," she replied.

.

She took a seat at the table and Sam decided to make tea, but when he'd got the water boiled he noticed that he was out of tea and walked off to look for some more at the back of the trailer. Watching him walk away, Nina stood up quickly and hurried to the refrigerator, opening the door quietly and taking the packet of M&Ms out of her pocket and putting them on one of the middle shelves. Glancing over her shoulder, she quickly walked back to the table and sat down again, feeling the heavy thump-thump-thump of her heart and listening for any strange thuds that might have meant Sam was having trouble with his overcrowded trailer again.

She frowned at a stack of books taking up space on the table but didn't go to grab any of them. She didn't want Sam snapping at her for touching something when she'd promised she'd keep her hands to herself. Most appeared to be in some form of Indo-Aryan language – Hindi or Urdu; maybe even Sanskrit – but two were written in English, the titles giving her some indication of what they were about: Ayurveda, apparently. Next to that pile, there was another pile of newer, more brightly covered, paperback books; and some cheap books of crossword puzzles. She tried to imagine where the crossword puzzles came in alongside traditional Indian medicinal practices, but nothing came to her. Maybe Sam was just doing some re-organising?

"Any luck?" she asked Sam, when he returned, but he didn't bother saying anything to her. Sighing, she leant forward in her seat and told him, "Look, I wasn't feeling my best, okay. I know I wasn't nice to you, but you've got to know it was ten times worse in my head. I'm glad now I didn't say everything I was thinking out loud. I was going through some strange, strange paranoia. Sam, I came to tell you I know what happened, and I'm sorry." She frowned, hoping he'd turn around and look at her, but no such luck. He put the kettle back on and stood staring at it instead.

"It's my fault. I... I've been so lonely for a long time now, and when I heard you talking like that, I got scared. I just wanted a friend, Sam, but I... I misread you. I put myself in your place and imagined you were so down-heartened because you were alone, too. I thought, if I could give you a reason to look up rather than down, you'd stay and we could still be friends. It wasn't until we had that argument in the cafeteria that I thought perhaps that reason could be... me. I... I know it's so unfair – I realise that now – but I was desperate, I wasn't thinking straight. I've stood by whilst so many people left me, I couldn't do it again, and I do like you, Sam. I always have. Maybe not in any romantic or sexual way, but all the same. Now that I remember that it was my idea from the very beginning, I feel so ashamed. I can't believe I thought it would be okay by you. It's such a despicable, low thing to do. I just want you to know, I'm sorry, and I won't be bothering you again. I'll let you go now. It wasn't to be and I shouldn't have tried forcing you into something you wanted nothing to do with, when I saw that."

Her eyes had sort of started to glaze over as she'd been talking, caught up in her own lie, but now they found focus again and she saw that Sam had turned to face her and was glaring at her, his chest rising and falling heavily.

She would have completely understood if he threw her out the door right then and there, or found a gun to shoot her with, but he didn't seem to be able to move, to stop glaring at her. The kettle started to whistle loudly on the stove, but he didn't even seem to notice it. She had the distinct feeling, then, that she was in a lot of trouble. A lot of trouble!

But she couldn't very well have told him the truth. That would be one thing Sam wouldn't have been able to let go. He'd have gone digging for answers, and she couldn't afford for him to. It really hadn't been her place to tell something like that – even if it was the right thing to do, handing over the truth – it was just too big, too complicated and intertwined with a whole lot of stuff that wasn't any human's business, so she'd lied instead.

She'd had a choice, sure; she'd had a choice to stab her friend in the back, and that was one choice she'd turned down. She didn't have so many friends in this world, but that was beside the point: the point was, she was a friend, too, and friends didn't stab each other in the back. They just didn't. Not real friends.

So September had chosen Sam and she for the Observers' little trial, but he'd only done it because he hadn't wanted to inflict it on someone else, she was sure. He'd known if anyone could handle it, it was her (and Sam). And he'd been right, hadn't he? It hadn't destroyed their minds completely, it hadn't turned them into raging homicidal maniacs, and it hadn't _really_ hurt them. No, under normal circumstances, they never would have got together, but that was probably just the point, because whoever they intended to be their final targets would not have, either.

"I dreamed, for one second, that things could be different for me, that I could have something wonderful, someone wonderful like you, Sam, but I was dishonest and the lies always show, in the end. I am so, so sorry. I let my desperateness get the better of me and ruined any chance I might have had. Say something, please, darling!"

"That isn't what happened," he breathed.

Nina couldn't believe he'd picked her. He'd seen right through her lie and it both thrilled her and terrified her. If he thought she'd never be so bad as to try something like that, how bad was she for trying to tell him she was, for lying about something like that? What was he really saying? He believed she still had some goodness left in her, or she just wasn't _that_ good? Her heart couldn't take much more of this run-around game; she wanted to sink to the floor and cry, to laugh and laugh.

"The company needed a human test subject for the drug. It was the perfect set-up."

"How'd you give it to me? I didn't eat anything at lunch."

"It was in your water."

"I don't believe that," he said darkly.

"It's the truth," she told him.

He turned away, collecting a glass from the cupboard and filled it at the sink. He set it down on the tabletop with a small thunk. "Let's see how good your drug really is! Hook me up."

She only stared. Oh shit! What did she do now? If she did nothing, Sam would know she'd lied. She had to do something, but no matter what she did, the truth remained: she _had_ lied! There _was_ no drug!

"I don't have any on me," she lied smoothly.

"No?" Clearly, he didn't believe she'd _ever_ had any. He didn't bother to disguise the fact.

She stood up, taking out her phone. "I'll call Brandon right now," she told him frostily, her heart beating a crazy, tumbling tune, and turned her back on him. Oh God! What now? She looked through her Phone Book and found Brandon's number; she pressed Call and waited. She could feel Sam's eyes on her, though she couldn't see them, and they killed her. She just wanted to slink away and hide... for about the rest of her life.

Why couldn't Sam have just chucked her out? Why had he had to do this? Was it just to spite her, to get his own back, or was it something else? How could he still believe in her after everything she'd put him through, all of the back and forth, hot and cold? She didn't think it was possible, but this was Sam. Crazy Sam. Could it be true?

Tears stung her eyes and her human hand shook, but she held her phone tightly.

"Yeah?" Brandon asked groggily.

"It's Nina," Nina told him. "I've got a favour to ask. Can you meet me at headquarters?"

"Now?"

"As soon as possible, Brandon."

"Alright..." He sounded uncertain. "Are- are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Is this going to be a problem for you?"

"No. No, I'll be there."

"Good!" She slipped her phone back into her pocket and turned back to Sam, no more shiny eyes. She headed for the door. "Are you coming or not?"

.

Brandon's eyes widened and he looked certainly disturbed, leaning in closer to whisper, "We don't have anything like that here, Nina. Why would you say something like that?"

"Even I can get carried away," she replied, with a small smile. "Is there nothing that might work?"

Brandon narrowed his eyes. "Does it have to be legal?"

She frowned, gazing into his eyes, trying to glean something of his thoughts from his expression. "No."

.

Walking back to her office, she handed the opened bottle of water Sam's way. When he took it but just stood there, she planted her hands on her hips. "What game are we playing now?" she asked.

"I think I'll have this analysed," he replied calmly.

"You can't do that!" she protested. "That's property of Massive Dynamic."

"I... I thought it was property of me, seeing as you just gave it to me?"

She made a face. "You can't have it analysed! I never agreed to that!"

"Oh, you never agreed to that? What did you agree to, Nina? You agreed to using me and tricking me, but you didn't agree to taking the same if someone was smart enough to see through you? Is that it? You think you're a law unto yourself, Nina?"

Her eyes hardened, her expression darkening. "Not _that_ smart, Sam! You've still got to get out of the building, and I don't think I'm going to let you! If you make so much as a move, I'll call Security and then you won't be having so much fun."

"Do it!"

"Stop it, Sam! Stop this now," she tried to reason with him.

He shook his head, turning and heading for the door.

"Sam!" she called after him. "Sam! Don't make me call Se- Damn you, Sam Weiss!" She ran to catch him up, grabbing his arm. "Sam, you stupid, crazy man!"

He made to brush her hand from his arm but she was quicker. She pulled him around and kissed him.

.

Brandon sat back on one of the stools in his lab, sighing heavily. He was so tired. It was crazy early. His boss was one strange chick, for sure. Still, he never could say "no" to her. His cell phone started to ring and he grabbed it out of his pocket. "Yeah?"

"Brandon?" It was Danielle, probably wondering where he'd gotten off to at this late hour. It was the middle of the night. "Where are you?"

"Gas station."

"What are you doing there?" She sounded so bewildered he could just imagine her expression, confused, tossing up whether or not a little dash of outrage would be too much. He loved that look on her face. It was so different from her repertoire of Personal Assistant expressions. It always made him want to take her face in his hands and kiss her silly.

He smiled. "Just picking up your favourite ice-cream, sweet pea."

"Are you really?" There was a little pout in her voice that made him just melt, softly sad, softly hopeful.

"Yeah, sweet pea, I really am. I know how much you'd been looking forward to it at dinner, and I'm sorry I forgot to get it with the rest of the shopping. It just slipped my mind."

"It's not that important," she told him. "I'd rather have you."

He laughed. She was just so damn adorable!

"Are you coming home soon?"

"Very soon, sweet."

"I'll be waiting. Drive safely, baby."

"Yeah!"

"Don't forget the ice-cream," she added quietly.

He laughed.

.

Perched on the edge of the coffee table, Danielle set her cell phone down next to her and stifled a yawn. When she'd woken up and found herself alone in bed, she'd closed her eyes and waited for Brandon to come back. When five minutes had passed, and then ten, she'd grown worried. She'd sat up in bed and wrapped her arms around her knees, staring hard at the door, waiting with rapidly beating heart for Brandon to return. She'd waited, but he hadn't come back.

She'd got out of bed and walked around the apartment, looking for him, but then she'd come to the front door and she'd seen his keys missing from the dish where he always left them with hers. It was crazy how she could use words like "always", because they'd only been together for a couple of days; it was laughable crazy, but she knew she loved him already. If he ever left her, she knew she'd forever be missing out. He was the one for her, she just knew. Her psychiatrist would probably disagree, but she just didn't care.

Forcing down a massive influx of crushing panic, she'd returned to the lounge room, knelt down on the carpet and retrieved her cell phone from under the glass coffee table, telling herself she was just being crazy, as usual. She'd sat down and hit number five on speed dial – her lucky number, and the number she'd assigned to Brandon's cell number – and counted the number of rings before the line picked up.

Now that she knew he was safe, that he'd only gone out to buy her her favourite ice-cream – he was so _sweet_ – she could feel the panic subsiding and blessed order returning to her thoughts. She wouldn't have to pop any pills tonight.

She gazed at her bare feet and waited to hear the click of the lock disengaging on the front door, the small but important sound that would tell her her Brandon was back.

She stood up suddenly and rushed back to her bedroom, pulling open the middle drawer on her chest of drawers. She drew out a luxuriously fluffy pink feather boa and wrapped it around her neck, a huge smile leaping onto her face, and shut the drawer.

When she heard the sound of the door clicking open, she counted to five and stepped out from around the corner, beaming.

Brandon closed the door and clicked the lock back into place, hooking the chain back on the door, and turned around. The weariness in his eyes seemed to blanch and take one good step backward in shock, superseded by sparkling rapture.

Danielle grinned and held a small hand out, inviting him over.

Never once taking his eyes from hers, Brandon stepped away from the door and softly took her warm hand in his chilly one, cooled by the wintry air outside. He couldn't even remember being cold, his every attention caught and mesmerised by this gorgeous goddess standing before him, wearing one of his old dress shirts she'd decided could be her new pyjama. He drew her into his breathless arms and kissed her burning, sweet lips.

_Wherever_ he was – he was home!

.

She hadn't meant to go plunging down this path again. She wouldn't have said "no", if the chance had arose, but she that hadn't been her intention from the start, despite what she'd said to September back at the house. She'd just been upset. She hadn't meant to, but now she couldn't turn away. As wrong as it probably was, she couldn't help wondering what it would be like, what it would be like to remember, in the morning.

She couldn't stop herself. Sam just had that effect on her. There was a struggle, a small, quick flurry of frantic movement – Sam wanted to go, she didn't want him to – but it didn't last. The wall came upon them and sat back placidly, silently observing events. The dull thud soon flew from her mind, dissolving into the past. Sam could have broke free, if he'd really wanted to. He wasn't serious about leaving, it was just part of the game. He'd been taken in just the same as her. She needed to believe it was true: Sam wanted what she wanted, too.

When she suddenly found her back pressed to the wall and Sam's hand in her hair, she knew it to be true. With a little effort, Nina still got what Nina wanted.

A moan escaped her throat and she gasped, wide-eyed with pleasure. A part of her mind argued it shouldn't have felt this good to have Sam's lips on her neck, but she just didn't listen.

.

Four months later:

Nina smiled and leant forward to turn the volume up on the radio, the happy country song playing complimenting the bright, warm day. She was waiting at the lights for the signal to change and the traffic to flow, coming back from a lunchtime meeting she hadn't particularly been looking forward to, but had somehow suffered through with something close to calm.

The traffic cleared ahead and she put the car into gear, heading back to Massive Dynamic. She was having a good day.

.

Rachel sat at the table, staring down at the wine glass in her hand, third-filled with tap water. Three weeks ago, she'd found out she was pregnant, now Olivia knew too. She was still waiting for her sister's reaction.

Olivia frowned, blinking a couple of times, and looked up into her eyes. "Are you happy?" she asked, at last.

Rachel figured she could have asked a hundred more hurtful questions, and replied honestly, "I don't know. I don't know what I feel right now." She sighed, placing her glass down. "Do you think it's too soon to tell Ella?"

Olivia grinned, debating this concept with herself. What would Rachel tell her exactly? That she was having a baby, that Ella would soon have a little brother or sister, that Baby may never know Daddy and neither would she? "You don't have a boyfriend, Rachel," she said quietly, her tone patient but firm.

"I know. I know that, Liv."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going back, Livvy. I promise you. I'm never going back to him, not for anything. Ella's with me. If I don't want to, I never have to see him again. I got by on my own with Ella: who's to say I can't do it again?"

Olivia tilted her head, her eyes sad. "Rachel!" That wasn't the point; the point wasn't that she couldn't, it was that she shouldn't. A child deserved all the love in the world – from both parents.

"He'll come back."

Olivia's eyes narrowed, suddenly alert. "What?"

Rachel shook her head. "You don't want to hear it, Livvy. You really don't want to."

"Yes, I do. I want to hear it very much, Rach. Get talkin', you!" A little smile quirked her lips but Rachel knew it was only for her benefit. Olivia's eyes were sharp, her quick, clever clogs ready to whirr, just waiting to get started.

Rachel couldn't help it, she felt her cheeks heat. Now how was she going to explain the whole crazy thing to her big sister without sounding like she'd been out-of-her-mind tripping? How could she make Livvy understand that she didn't blame anyone for what had happened? That she would love this baby to the ends of the earth and back, and if she had half a chance, she'd do her very best to love its father too?

Liv would think she was nuts.

"It's too crazy, Liv. I could never put it into words."

"Crazy's just a word, Rachel. A word I've been hearing a lot, these past years. They said Walter's crazy but he's so very lovely, too. Life is crazy." She tipped her chin up. "Let's hear it."

"Argh!" Rachel sighed heavily and launched into the story.

By the time she'd finished, Olivia's hand had found its way into her hair and her eyes were wide; she was still catching up to her zigzaggy, manic thoughts. "That's..." she let her breath out heavily, "quite a story."

"I wasn't tripping, Liv," Rachel insisted. "I wouldn't!"

"I believe you, sweetheart."

Rachel frowned. "What do I do, Livvy?"

"Whoo!" Olivia ran a hand across her face. "Live, sweetie, you live. A baby on the way, two times the love! That's great." She extended and hand and placed it over Rachel's. "You're gonna be fine."

"What if he comes looking for me?"

"Do you think that's a possibility?"

Rachel frowned, torn. "I don't know."

"Do you think he'd hurt you, or the baby?"

"No!"

"He was prepared to hurt you, he even told you he was."

"He was just saying that."

"I don't think so, sweetheart."

Rachel nodded. "You weren't there, Livvy. I know he wouldn't hurt me."

"What about his... 'kind'?"

"No. No!" She shook her head, her eyes wide. "He wouldn't let them, he'd do something."

Olivia frowned, lost in her thoughts, for a moment. "You mentioned that he had a gun, Rach. Would you be able to identify it if you saw it again?"

"It was black. He said it was some kind of stun gun, but it looked like a normal gun."

"He threatened you with it?"

"No! I asked to look at it and he let me. He said it wouldn't work for me anyway. Like it would somehow know I was human and not... like him."

"What did he look like?"

"Human."

Olivia frowned, her brow crinkling.

"Ah, wh- Caucasian. He had blue eyes, I think." She frowned, trying to remember anything that could help. "He had warm hands." That probably wasn't very helpful.

"What colour was his hair?" Olivia asked.

"Ah..." She let her breath out. "I don't know. He had the whole Bruce Willis look going on."

Olivia tilted her head. "Yeah?"

Rachel nodded, pushing her hair out of her face with a pale, shaking hand.

Olivia met her eye, her expression contemplative. "Rachel? Did you believe him?"

"About what?"

"The non-human, super secret mission stuff?"

"I don't know. I... No, I suppose not. But he believed it. He really did, Liv. He wasn't just having one over me, I swear. He believed it."

Olivia nodded. "Mmm. And you said he told you he couldn't 'influence' you?"

"Yes."

"Rachel, do you know what an empath is?"

Rachel shrugged. "I guess. I've heard of them before, on TV. They're people with this... special understanding of other people's feelings, aren't they?"

"That's right," Olivia said. "Rach, do you think that's what he could have been talking about? He couldn't influence you with his empathic abilities?"

"I..." Rachel blinked. "Empaths aren't real, Liv. I mean, sure, I can believe that people could be sensitive to other people's... gestures and things like that, like that guy on that show, Lie to Me, or... the one with that Simon guy, from Australia. But they're just normal people. They don't have supernatural powers or anything. They can only influence other people because the other people don't know what they know. You... don't believe in... in... empaths, do you, Livvy?"

Olivia nodded. "I do. I've met a few, too." She smiled. "I liked exactly two of them."

Rachel stared at her, her expression a mixture of shock and confusion.

"Can I show you something?" Olivia asked.

Rachel blinked. "I guess," she whispered.

"I'll be right back, sweetheart," Olivia promised.

Rachel watched her leave with wide, frightened eyes. Oh, what was happening? What was going on? How could it be true? Non-humans who looked human, alien stun guns that weren't alien stun guns, empaths who could mess with people with the minimum of ease? And why was _she_ different?

.

Olivia lay a series of photographs down on the table in front of her, glancing up to meet her eyes. "Do you recognise any of these people? Are any of them John?"

Rachel bit her lip, leaning over to get a better look. Her stomach knotted. She let her eyes travel over the photographs, but she didn't recognise any of these men. Her heart froze.

Olivia had already seen. "This one?" she asked, nodding to the picture.

Rachel nodded mutely. "That's September."

"September?" Olivia frowned. "I thought you said his name was John."

"No. He lied. His name wasn't really John. He told me later. His real name is September."

Olivia shrugged. "It's an unusual name. Maybe he lied again?"

"No." Rachel frowned. "That's his name. I could tell."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Olivia sighed. "Thanks for that, Rach. Now we know."

Rachel frowned. "What do you mean, Liv? W-we?"

Dread suddenly filled Olivia's face and she stared at Rachel. "Oh! God! I'm sorry, sweetheart! You don't know anything, do you?"

"What are you talking about, Livvy?" Rachel asked, starting to become scared now.

Olivia touched her arm. "It's okay, baby. It's okay. I just mean you don't know about my job, that's all." She sighed heavily. "This is gonna be hard!"

.

The expression on Peter's face said it all. Olivia smiled and whispered, "Freaky."

"Poor Rach," Peter sighed.

"You can say that again!"

Broyles opened his office door and gestured for them to come inside.

Standing by the window, Olivia recounted Rachel's story to her superior, who looked suitably stunned by the end. Olivia sighed and explained that she'd told Rachel about her job; she hadn't felt she'd had any other choice.

Broyles nodded. "I'll overlook it this time, Dunham. This whole business sounds like more trouble."

"Yes, sir."

"I'd like you to talk to Walter, Dunham. Brief him. We really need to know more." He frowned uncomfortably. "Ideally, we should have Rachel and the baby examined." He sighed heavily. "I'm going to need to talk to Nina."

"I like your thinking," Olivia agreed. "I'll bring Walter and Astrid up to speed. I'll give it a shot with Rachel, but who knows how that's gonna turn out. We'll see."

Broyles nodded. That was understandable. "Keep me posted, agent."

"Will do."

.

"Agent Kashner!"

Kashner's eyes widened and he stepped away from the wall he'd been leaning against, chatting with Amy Jessup. "Agent Dunham."

She grinned back at him. "Just passin' through, Kashner."

Beside her, Peter offered the other agent a smile, then turned his eyes to the dark-haired woman with him. "Amy."

"Hi, Peter."

"How are things?"

"As whacky as ever," she smiled.

He laughed. "Agent Kashner." He offered the man a nod. Olivia widened her eyes in amusement and the pair resumed their walk, leaving Amy and Kashner behind.

"Oh boy, he's keen!" Olivia grinned. "Coming back here." She laughed.

Peter smiled at her, agreeing completely. "Keen" was a good word, but perhaps "amnesiac" was a better one. Hey, that was their good deed for the day. The look of horror on Kashner's face had said he'd definitely gotten his memory back.

.

Walter quickly grabbed one of his favourite red twisted liquorices, then grabbed a few more, just for good measure. Astrid's hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide above her hand. Walter patted her arm and gestured to a stool behind him. She silently took a seat, and the liquorice he offered her, lowering her hand from her mouth. "Well, that certainly makes things interesting," Walter said, at last. "Mighty interesting, wouldn't you say, Astro?"

"Mighty, Wally!" she whispered breathlessly.

Olivia smiled at them both and spun about, her blonde ponytail whipping against her shoulder with the sharp movement, and walked briskly to the door. Peter fell into step with her and followed her out of the lab.

.

Nina coughed, staring at Phillip wildly. "You're sure you're informant is quite sane, Phillip?" she asked.

"Are you questioning Agent Dunham's sanity, Nina?"

"Of course not!" she laughed. "It was Olivia? Who told you this?"

"It was Olivia's sister who told her, and she told me," Phillip said.

She nodded solemnly. "Ah!"

.

Rachel was worried – scared, actually. She was shaking. She didn't like this hospital garment they had her wearing. It was cold and clinical, the colour pallid and tired. She didn't like this situation one bit, but she'd given Livvy her word she could do this thing, and she intended on keeping that word, too.

She tried to talk her legs into relaxing, but they weren't having a bar of it. She closed her eyes, for just a moment, hoping the lack of visual stimulus might concentrate her will power. When she heard a door open suddenly, she snapped open her eyes.

A woman with red hair and a very neat fringe hanging almost in her eyes, dressed in all black, approached her. She smiled at her but Rachel didn't feel reassured. The woman's eyes tried to pretend they knew each other, they tried to placate her, but Rachel wasn't placated. It disconcerted her that this woman wasn't wearing anything but black, that she didn't appear to be a doctor or a nurse.

"Rachel!"

Rachel wasn't pleased with the way she said her name, either. As though she was trying to put something past her.

"Nina Sharp," the woman introduced herself in that outwardly friendly tone.

"Did they tell you the same thing?" Rachel asked, with a frown. It seemed unlikely, even to her own ears, given the woman's age, but today had been a crazy, out-there day. It wouldn't surprise her if crazier things were on their way.

That seemed to take Nina Sharp aback. "I'm sorry, dear?" she asked, at last. "Did who tell me what?"

Rachel laughed, shaking her head a little. "Did they tell you they were in grave danger of extinction and only you could save them, with a little loving magic?"

Nina frowned. "No," she replied blankly.

"Okay." Rachel shrugged.

"I'm in charge here," Nina added.

"Yeah, yeah. Naturally," Rachel agreed.

A man appeared beside Nina and she turned a glance his way. "This is Brandon."

.

Rachel hummed the Divinyl's "Make Out Alright", sitting with her legs crossed, waiting for Olivia to arrive. The tests were over, for the moment, apparently, and she felt slightly ill. Her hands were pale and shaky but when she turned them over they looked different, blotchy. Too sweaty.

She looked around the room and sighed, humming "Lay Your Body Down". She really hoped Liv would arrive before she'd exhausted the whole album. Her eyes moved to the window where bright sunlight slanted through the blinds, setting the white walls ablaze. She looked around when she heard the door open but was disappointed to see that it wasn't Livvy, it was just some guy. "Hi," she said.

He nodded.

She started to hum "Love School", suppressing the urge to sigh heavily, to scuttle away. She didn't much fancy the idea that she may well be a public spectacle now. "Ay-yay-yay-yay, yay-whooo!"

The man offered her some M&Ms.

Glancing around at him with a frown, she was about to say "no thanks" when she changed her mind and chose a yellow one. Olivia always said they reminded her of medicine and Rachel supposed she felt a little like she was stuck in hospital right now, the depressing weight of four sad walls closing in on her, blurring her vision, confusing her mind, making her think happy was sad and warm was cold, comforting arms were suspicious, cruel arms.

She popped the sweet into her mouth and waited for it to melt. She met the man's eyes. "Thanks, Michael."

"Sam," he corrected casually.

She smiled. "Sam. I'm Rachel. Nina pointed you my way, hey?"

"No."

"You're just a little bit snoopy by nature?" she joked good-naturedly.

"Guess so," he agreed.

"So what are you in for?"

"I'm just visiting," he replied.

She smiled. "Lucky you!" She took another M&M. She got a green one this time. "Befitting," she remarked, to herself. September had told her he wasn't an alien, but he might as well have been. The awkward, weird and wonderful factor would have been no less.

"Who are you visiting?" she asked. "If you don't mind my asking..."

He thought about that, for a moment, then said, "Nina."

She smiled. "Okay. Hey, congrats!"

He frowned. "Pardon?"

Rachel grinned, but his expression remained the same: he had no idea what she was talking about. Her smile melted away. "Nothing," she returned, shaking her head. "It's nothing."

"It's definitely something, Rachel," he said.

"I heard a rumour that you were engaged," she lied. "I guess that's all it was. A rumour."

"We most certainly are not engaged," he agreed.

She looked away from him, in the opposite direction, humming "I'm on Your Side". Maybe, if she pretended he'd left, he really _would_ leave. "Lately, I've been feeling strong, and you've been falling behind..." She stared at the blue sky, carved into a hundred faded ribbons. "I can't read your mind..." The chocolate and sugar had made her throat dry. "I love you, babe. I'm on your side..."

"Rach?"

Rachel jumped to her feet and spun in the direction of the door. "Livvy! There you are!"

"Here I am!" Olivia agreed, with a grin.

Rachel sighed heavily. "I'm still waiting for someone to come explain this whole thing to me."

Olivia nodded. Her eyes flickered away from Rachel's, to the man standing beside her. "Hello, Sam!"

"Hello, Olivia," he said quietly, to the wall beside her.

"He's visiting Nina," Rachel supplied. "I guess she's incommunicado right now."

Olivia frowned, gesturing a finger over her shoulder, turning part-way back to the hall she'd just come out of, "No, I just saw her... a second ago." She nodded.

Sam stared harder at the floor.

Rachel scratched the back of her neck. "Sorry," she whispered. "It was sorta a secret, huh?"

"It's fine," Sam whispered back.

Olivia frowned at them both, wondering what she was missing. She turned away and walked back out into the hall. "Nina!"

Rachel winced. "I'm so sorry!" she whispered, starting forward, towards her older sister. "Liv! Livvy!"

Olivia looked around at her, frowning. "What?"

"It's fine. Sam can talk to her later. He doesn't mind."

"I mind," Olivia told her. "Nina likes to play these games with people. 'Catch me if you can, but don't blink, because I know all the secret passageways!'"

Rachel scratched the side of her neck.

Seeing her odd expression, Olivia walked over and grabbed her hand, moving it away from her neck. "Why are you scratching?"

"I'm hot," Rachel told her.

Olivia felt her forehead with the back of her hand. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Thanks, Livvy."

Olivia nodded and crossed to the door, disappearing outside into the hall.

Rachel turned slowly back to Sam, catching his eyes when he finally looked up from the floor. "I'm so sorry, Sam!"

He frowned. "You haven't been completely honest with me, have you, Rachel?"

She leant back a fraction, frowning. "Ho! What are you saying, Sammy?"

"It's just Sam."

"Talk to me, Sammy. Out with it. What has Rachel done wrong now?"

He stared at her with serious concern.

"No. I'm not a mind reader. You will actually have to speak. Oh, come on! This place makes my skin crawl. Tell me something. I'm losing my mind here."

"What did you really hear?"

"When was this?"

"The rumour you say you heard."

She nodded. "I really heard what I said I heard. No kidding. I really did, Sammy."

"Sam."

She nodded. "Hmm." She hummed "If Love Was a Gun".

"Rachel, what did you hear? Or didn't you hear anything?"

"Oooh, if love was a gun. If love was a gun. Oh yeah! Angel, angel... Angel!"

He grabbed her arm.

"Grabby," she commented. "No, I didn't hear anything. Guess I'm just crazy, Sammy, my boy."

"That could be true."

"I hope there's an angel, watching over you. I hope there's one! I hope there's two! I hope there's many!"

Olivia reappeared in the door, a bottle of water in hand, and hurried over. She set the bottle down on the floor and took Rachel's hands in her face. "Look at me, baby!"

Rachel shook her head, not meeting her eyes.

Olivia replaced her frown with a smile, removing her hands from her face, and hummed softly. "Tell me Mirror, Mirror, mirror on my wall... Who is the fairest, the fairest of them all?"

Rachel's eyes slid back to hers.

"Hey, you!" Olivia whispered.

"I'm thirsty," Rachel said blankly.

Olivia leant down and picked up the bottle, passing it to her.

Rachel scratched her neck, turning away and walking to her chair. She sat down and opened her bottle of water, taking a small sip.

Sam looked at Olivia.

"Rachel doesn't like hospitals," Olivia explained quietly.

"We're not in a hospital."

Olivia shrugged.

A woman in a white coat stepped into the room, closely followed by Nina and Brandon. Sam stared at the floor.

Olivia walked over to her sister, touching her shoulder gently. Rachel pushed her hand off her shoulder. "Rachey."

Rachel's eyes snapped to the door. She straightened her gown and stood up straighter. "I'm Rachel," she said.

The woman in the white coat approached them cautiously.

Rachel laughed.

The woman flinched.

Rachel tugged on her gown. "What's the verdict?"

Olivia took hold of Sam's arm and started to drag him toward the door. He stared at her strangely. "It's private," she whispered.

"You think."

She pointed to the door.

"I know the way."

She nodded. "Good day, Sam."

"Not really."

Olivia closed the door after him, blinking once – wow, hard day – and turned away, her eyes finding Rachel across the room. "Apparently not," she said, joining her sister.

The woman explained that both Rachel and the baby appeared to be perfectly healthy, though it wouldn't hurt if Rachel started taking vitamin supplements.

"Supplements sounds like implements," Rachel muttered darkly. "I don't want to donate my organs after I die! You're not having my body! You won't put one finger on me!"

Olivia touched her sister's hand.

Rachel turned her head away.

The woman in the white coat sighed, concluding with, "I wish you and your baby the best of health." She left the room in a hurry.

Rachel glared at Nina. "Lay off of Sam! He's a nice person. What was that all about? That was rubbish! I thought you lot were going to tell me something I _didn__'__t_ already know! Sam is not your personal toy boy! He deserves to hear the truth!"

Nina glanced at Olivia, seemingly unaffected by Rachel's little rant.

Olivia put her arms around the younger woman. "It's okay, baby," she whispered.

"It's not okay!" Rachel blew up. "I don't... I don't... I just _don__'__t_!" She stomped her foot, scrunching up her face. "I don't like her! Why does it have to be her!"

Olivia stroked her hair. "Shhh. Shhh." It had been so long since Rachel had been like this, she'd almost forgotten about her 'turns' completely.

Rachel started to cry, pulling away from her. "I want Daddy," she whispered, crouching down on the floor and hiding her face in her hands. "Rachel doesn't want Olive."

Olivia forced a smile onto her face, embarrassment making her cheeks darken, and started singing Roy Orbison's "Candy Man".

Rachel sniffed and lowered her hands from her face, a small smile appearing on her lips.

Olivia grinned, holding her hand out to Rachel.

Rachel frowned and placed her hand in hers tentatively, not quite sure if she was making the right decision or not. A look of fright leapt into her eyes when Olivia abruptly pulled her to her feet and into her arms, spinning her around. "Yeah, come on, baby! I love you, oh honey."

Rachel pushed her away, hunching over slightly, and stared at Olivia's shoes. "I'm better now!" she breathed.

Olivia let her shoulders drop, letting out a long sigh. "Oh, thank heavens!"

Rachel glared at her shoes.

"Sorry, Rach."

"I embarrassed you," Rachel whispered.

"It was nothing," Olivia denied. "It was _fun_!"

"It wasn't fun." Rachel looked up from her shoes with dark eyes.

"If you're feeling better, dear," Nina interrupted.

Rachel forcefully amended the glare in her eyes, straightening her posture. "I cannot apologise profusely enough, Ms. Sharp. My behaviour has been beyond the pale. I hope you can accept my apologies."

"Of course," Nina replied sweetly, gracing her with a warm smile.

"Nah-nah, nah-nah. Nah-nah, nah-nah."

Nina's smile didn't falter.

"Well, is my baby a mutant?" Rachel demanded.

"Absolutely not!" Nina said vehemently. "Your baby is perfectly healthy, and completely human."

"Yours won't be," Rachel replied, with fierce, dark eyes.

Nina blinked. "I beg your pardon, miss?"

Rachel looked her up and down with disdain and smiled slowly. She lifted a finger to her lips. "Shhh!"

"Good day, Rachel," Nina replied painfully. She whipped around and walked away, her high heels clicking loudly on the floor.

Brandon turned and followed her out the door.

Olivia brushed the hair that had fallen in Rachel's face away, behind an ear. "It's over now, sweetheart."

Rachel laughed. "It's far from over, baby girl!" she hissed, and tore away from her, stalking to the door and storming outside.

.

Rachel stood in the foyer, dressed, once more, in her own clothes – they felt strange to her now, as though they weren't hers, but some stranger's – her head pressed to the wall, humming "The Comedians" loudly as tears welled in her eyes. The cool of the wall didn't help; the tears kept coming. She couldn't keep her heart from beating a drum roll. She didn't want to be this person. This _sick_ person!

She cried against the wall, her tears splashing down onto her shoes. If it wasn't the absolute pits that she was losing her mind, she'd made her own sister out to look like she'd _already_ lost hers! She was very, very bad!

Hearing the click of Olivia's shoes on the floor, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve quickly and turned away from the wall, taking a deep breath and straightening up. She didn't want to keep her sister waiting even _one_ second, and she could not _wait_ to be out of this hell hole!

.

As they drove along in Olivia's FBI issue car with the windows down, Rachel stared at the passing scenery with tear-blurred eyes, humming "Running Scared" and feeling low. Her shoulders shook abruptly and she started to cry, stuffing a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound of her sobs.

Olivia placed a hand on her shoulder, for a small moment, but didn't speak. She let the whipping wind speak for her, let the wind touch Rachel's face and steal her tears away, whispering that it would all be okay, it would all work out. Sadness had to exist so happiness could exist too, but sometimes sadness could be happiness, too, if you let it.

Rachel rested her head on the headrest and let the tears come. Livvy didn't remember. But why should she? How could she? They were not real memories, they were the fabrications of a sick mind, of her illness. They were not real. They felt real, but they weren't.

She remembered things about people she'd thought, before today, she'd never met before – she _knew_ she'd never met before – people who, as it happened, weren't just fabrications of her over-active, stressed imagination, but very real, and now she didn't know how to explain that away, didn't know how to tell herself she was ill and her dreams – her memories – were just products of that illness. She _wished_ they were, but the sinking feeling in her soul told her they were no more unreal than the car she was sitting in, passing through traffic on her way home.

She didn't know how to tell Livvy what she thought she knew wasn't quite true.

It made sense now, why September hadn't been able to read her. She wouldn't let him.

She closed her eyes.

"You used to love that song, 'Ooby Dooby'," Olivia recalled, smiling at the memory. "I even had a whole dance routine worked out."

Rachel laughed, despite the sadness clinging to her like a second skin. "I remember," she whispered.

Even when she'd been unmanageable and totally unrecognisable from her usual quiet, softly spoken self, Olivia had been good to her. She'd always been so good to her little sister. She'd never lost her patience. Never. And her dance routines had been pretty amusing.

I'm sorry for insulting you, Rachel whispered silently, only in her mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Tell me what you think. I'm supposed to be working on another story and doing about a hundred other things at the same time, but the bendy ships have taken over. Who knows how long that will last, eh? All (and any) feedback is appreciated. Have a great day! :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Elbows on the tabletop, chin in her hands, Rachel stared off into space, listening to the refrigerator hum. The sound was all pervasive: it took over her neat kitchen with its too white lighting and turned it into something sharp and hard, something dungeon-like. She let her eyes drift closed, knowing she should have been sleeping: she could have been happily dreaming about her happily ever after that, really, would always remain nothing more than a dream, a fairytale of her own inventing.

The fridge was tired, as she was. It whirred loudly, but that wasn't its true voice. It was tired. Maybe she'd tried to keep her eyes open, but they'd fluttered closed anyway. She should have been sleeping, these vibes she was sending out would be disrupting Ella's sleep. She needed to get into bed and hunker down, suck it up, and _find_ sleep.

The refrigerator hummed to her and told her to Go on, git, girly! Bed with you, and, like a zombie, she found her feet, and stumbled away, then back again, to get the light. (Couldn't forget that – that bill. Eash! Gobsmack! My beautiful Earth.)

Ping! said the light, as it retired for the night.

She was no longer listening, just stumbling blindly in the dark. Bed.

.

Nina couldn't hear the music, she was sitting in her kitchen, eating Maraschino cherries from the jar. Joss Stone didn't do anything for her tonight; the cherries didn't do anything for her. She could barely taste them. She should have put them away; she couldn't bring herself to be fussed. What would Rachel know anyway?

She stood up, pushing the jar away violently; it slid across the bench, tipped over the side, smashed on the floor with jarring clarity. She winced, backing away. What was going on with her, anyway? Nothin', nothin'.

She walked to the living room and stood by the window, staring out at the gallant magnolia so perfect at casting cooling shade in the summer, underneath its leaf-filled branches. She imagined lying under that tree, gazing up at the sky, funny-shaped patches of blue, through the strong branches, verdant green leaves, the breeze playing on her face gently. It was a nice tree. A tree children would love.

She turned away from her daydreamings. It was the middle of the night, for gosh sake! No wonder that boy hadn't said a thing. If he'd been human – and even remotely cared, at all, for the type of person others took him to be – he'd have just died. She'd have done so. Even she wouldn't have stood for that crap. Go and find some other fool for your mad, fool machine. She'd have told them, alright. Dying! Dying! Gimme some proof or take a running leap – off the roof. Crazy digs. I ain't chor Barbie doll. No you cannot dress me up or work it like that. I got some sensibility. I'll get my own baby, thank you. Nick off.

Wasn't though, she reminded herself. Human. Things were different, with them lot. 'Pparently, outvoted, you merely resigned and folded. To her mind, that struck her as crazy. A lot like crazy. Surely they'd done more than simply _say_ so. They'd given him _some_ sort of proof. He wasn't some silly boy, he could think.

What's it to you? she asked, leaving for the kitchen. It wasn't even any of her business. She was just seizing on someone else's concern because she'd rather have pretended her own wasn't real. She had to shake her head and get back to Earth.

Had to clean that mess up, she supposed. She was still waiting for Sam to call. They hadn't gone out – no fancy restaurant for dinner – and they hadn't spoken, they hadn't even fought. She hoped he picked up the phone soon. She didn't like to cry but she felt it coming on. She needed a comforting voice to lend a helping hand.

Kneeling on the floor in her expensive, top-of-the-range kitchen, Nina forgot about the broken glass and sloppy, gooey cherry mess and just cried.

.

How she'd got from there to here, she couldn't say, but the tears were still on her cheeks and she was banging on the door, the middle of the night, like some crazy woman. "Sam, open the door! Please let me explain. Whatever you think I did, just let me explain. Sam!"

Her cell phone jingled and she was momentarily distracted, wondering who it could be leaving her messages at this hour. Did she even _care_? She checked the message anyway. It was from Sam: I'm sorry, it said.

"I didn't know!" she said, through the door. "_Please_, just open the door!" Her eyes were too wide and her legs were so, so tired. Sam wasn't like this, this wasn't him. He'd have heard her out, at least.

"Lady, get lost!"

She snapped out of her trance abruptly to see someone she'd never met before standing in the door. "I need to talk to Sam," she told the woman.

"Oh, for God sake! Lady, there ain't no Sam here. You'll be wanting the last one that was here. _I_ live here now – Sam, whoever, he went bye-bye. This is _my_ place now. Please stop banging on my door at all hours of the morning, grandma." The young woman waved, "Bye-bye," and pulled the door closed with a bang.

.

Sam frowned at her daddy but he wasn't looking at her, he looked upset. He _felt_ upset. He looked at her suddenly and saw her wide, worried eyes, talking to her quietly in Portuguese. She didn't know what he was saying but it didn't matter what he was saying, she read his emotions perfectly clearly. He was trying to reassure her. "Olive?" she asked quietly, looking around her suddenly. It was Olive's third birthday, but Olive was nowhere to be seen. "Where Olive?"

The sound of clicking heels signalled the arrival of her mommy and she looked around quickly. "Where Olive?" she asked her mom.

"Sam, I can't find her!" Mommy wasn't talking to her, her eyes were wide and scared, locked with Daddy's. Mommy leant down and kissed the top of her head. "Hey, baby!" she whispered.

Sam frowned. "Where Olive, Mommy?"

Her mother started to cry. Daddy didn't hug her; he was holding Sam and he didn't want to drop her.

.

Rachel's eyes snapped open and she stared up at the ceiling with too wide eyes. A shiver passed over her. She didn't want to remember that. It wasn't true. It was just a crazy dream.

.

Olive frowned at the woman. She was dressed in the right clothes, but she wasn't the right woman. She didn't work at her playgroup at all. A spike of fear quickened her breath and she spun around. She had to run, she had to get away from this woman. She ran for the door but the woman was quicker. She struggled, but she was so tired. And then her eyes closed and everything went black.

This wasn't the birthday surprise she'd been looking forward to.

.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," a woman was telling Sam's mommy, but Sam was more interested in the people in uniforms. They looked serious. Very serious. She had a bad feeling in her stomach. Something had happened to Olive, she just knew it. Something bad.

"Ms. Sharp, we're doing the best we can. Believe me, we'll do everything in our power to find your daughter and bring her home safely. Now, if there's anything – anything at all – that you can remember that you think might assist us in our investigation-"

Nina shook her head, no longer hearing the man. She just couldn't believe that. She couldn't believe her baby was coming back, no matter how hard she wanted to. Olive was gone, she could feel it.

She looked over at her family, Sam and Sam Jr, her eyes full of tears. She didn't want to cry in front of them, but she couldn't help it. Her baby was missing, who knew who had her, and what they were doing to her, how they were _hurting_ her!

"Nina?"

Nina looked around suddenly, seeing that Phillip had arrived.

Sam frowned, wondering why her mommy was hugging this person she didn't know. Was he going to help find Olive and bring her home, like the other man had told Mommy? She hoped so.

The man's eyes caught hers and she saw she'd been wrong. She knew this person, he had been to her house before. She hadn't recognised him because he felt different today: he was at work today. She should have picked up on the subtle similarities, but she'd been thinking about Olive instead.

Suddenly, Sam didn't think Olive would be coming home. Mommy's friend had come to tell her some bad news. The people who had taken Olive had left Mommy a note. They said she had taken their daughter away from them, so they'd taken one of hers, and then they'd said "goodbye". They were going to see their daughter now, and they'd be bringing her a friend.

Sam started to take deep, panicked breaths. She couldn't believe it. Olive couldn't be dead! It just wasn't true. Her Olive was fine! She was coming back home. She had to!

Someone in a uniform was saying, "For all intents and purposes, I think we have to assume-" Sam zoned them out. She didn't care about insects and porpoises. Olive _knew_ how to swim. She wasn't even scared of bugs.

Daddy was talking to her again, trying to calm her down, hugging her, but she didn't notice. Mommy was crying again and Sam wished he'd hug her instead.

Daddy was singing her favourite song quietly, "Spanish Eyes", but all she could think about was Mommy, crying alone – her friend was talking to someone else now – and Olive, lost somewhere, drowning under the weight of too much water.

"I'm sorry," Daddy said.

.

When the woman came for Sam, she wasn't afraid. She knew she was going to take her to Olive and everything would be okay. Olive would be so happy to see her. They'd hug and maybe Olive would cry a bit, but she'd still be happy, and then they'd call Mommy and Daddy and they'd come and pick them up. Sam had memorised the number. It had taken some doing, but she'd finally got it memorised. She'd never forget it. Ever.

Everything would be okay.

She put a smile on her face and took the woman's hand, knowing she'd be going to see her sister now.

.

The woman was sick. Her baby, Rachel, had died because she'd been sick too. Sam knew why Marilyn was sick. She'd travelled through time; she'd taken Olive, then she'd come back, to take her. Marilyn and her new husband kept trying to tell her she was Rachel, but she knew she wasn't. They had Olive fooled – they'd even done something to her hair to make her look more like them, it had used to be red, but they'd done something to it and now it was blonde, like Marilyn's – but Sam wouldn't let them fool her. She knew who she was. She'd play along with them, so they wouldn't suspect she knew, she remembered, but she wouldn't forget. Not ever. Olive was hers, not theirs. They'd stolen her, just like they'd stole her, but one day, they would be going home. One day, Olive would know the truth.

Marilyn was going to die. Sam knew it, Marilyn's husband knew it. He hated Olive for making his wife sick. Olive hadn't gotten sick, but Marilyn had. Olive hadn't died, but his Rachel had. He would never ever forgive Olive for that. Ever. This was all because of her, because of Mari's damn mission!

He would _never_ forgive her!

Sam didn't like him. She knew he resented her, too. She wasn't his daughter. She wasn't his Rachel. She was an imposter.

Unlike her husband, Marilyn liked her. Marilyn sometimes forgot that she wasn't her Rachel and her husband got angry about that, but Sam didn't say anything. She just let the woman think she was Rachel. She was dying, it wouldn't be nice of her to make life harder for her when she needed to get better, to concentrate on the good things in life that she wanted to hang on to.

But Marilyn wouldn't get better. Olive would be devastated. Sam didn't know what to do. She'd have to wait and see what happened when the time came.

She'd tried to talk to Olive, to get her to call the number so their parents could come, but Olive called her Rachel and looked at her like she really _was_ Rachel. Olive didn't understand. She'd forgotten. She looked at Sam and saw some little baby, someone to be protected and loved, but not to be taken seriously. Sam was too young to know about the bad things in the world and Olive didn't want her thinking that way. She was just playing some game, Olive told herself. She was very adorable. Sam was scared. She wanted to tell Olive the truth, but what if Olive didn't believe her? What if she told Marilyn and her husband?

She told herself she would remember – when she was older, she would call their parents herself – but each time she closed her eyes, the memories slipped a little farther away; they became strange and foreign, and that made Sam cry, but sometimes she didn't even know why she was crying – she couldn't remember.

When her hair started to change, when the brown in it turned into blonde, she didn't even think anything of it. It never occurred to her that perhaps it had been her trip through time, and that was why Marilyn's hair was so blonde. It was okay that her hair was blonde because her mommy's was too.

.

Rachel sat up in the dark, reaching for her cell phone on the bedside table, and punched in the number she'd swore she'd never forget, but somehow had, anyway. She listened to the phone ringing, her heart thudding loudly with dread. The number was real, her carrier hadn't popped up with a message to let her know the number she'd dialled didn't exist.

"Yes?" The voice on the other end sounded tearful and hopeless.

Rachel quickly pressed the End Call button, shaking too much. She knew whose phone number that was – and it was real!

.

Sam stared at the photograph he was holding. It showed a young woman and a child, a little boy. That was the only picture he had of his mother. Her name had been Ella.

He knew what had to happen – what was _going_ to happen – and as much as he knew it was unavoidable, that he couldn't run away from it, he knew he still had a choice. He could run away and ruin everything, or he could stay and ruin everything anyway, ruin everything that would ever matter to him. If he ran away now, Rachel would never be born and Olivia might never be taken, but then where would the world be? Where would the universe be? The world needed Olivia and Rachel and it didn't really matter that Nina or he were their parents, that he was their father, because, to the universe, if you were in it, you were fair game. Nobody was exempt, nobody got to take someone else's place, and parents could only protect their children so far.

He didn't want his kids to be taken away, to be abducted by some strangers, to be tortured and hurt, but he knew he couldn't outrun this thing. He had to do the right thing, even if it meant doing the wrong thing. He took a deep breath and promised himself he wouldn't tell Nina. No matter what, he wouldn't tell her. He didn't want this choice to be on her. It was on him and him alone.

He heard Nina put the phone down in the other room and walk into the room and switch the light on. He'd put his photo away and stood up now.

Nina froze, for just a second, and then she ran over and threw her arms around him.


End file.
